


Bro, I Love You

by 991102, lais, littleheavens



Category: Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, fake dating until it's not fake, mutual pining let's get this bread, team blue balls forever, they're youtubers woohoo, welcome back to the shit show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-12 11:12:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16871896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/991102/pseuds/991102, https://archiveofourown.org/users/lais/pseuds/lais, https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleheavens/pseuds/littleheavens
Summary: in which jihoon and woojin are just 'bros' until they go viral and the internet falls in love with themandthe idea that they’re in love with each other... they’re NOT but this IS youtube so why not try the “i date my bro for a month” challenge?orthe written excerpts ofbunssodaus' youtuber au





	Bro, I Love You

**Author's Note:**

> what's up bunssodanables!!!! mandy here ;) happy birthday jesus!!!!! it's still christmas for another hour for me so consider this a christmas present!!!! we are so sorry that it took us so long to actually post this

 

Jihoon stares at his phone screen. A Twitter user, @winkschamsae, asked a question that Jihoon never really thought about: 

 

_ Is Woojin cute? _

 

Okay, well, they’ve been “bros” for as long as he could remember, but Jihoon has never really thought about if his best friend was attractive or not. Jihoon vaguely remembers how girls used to flock around Woojin in middle school, but Jihoon had never given Woojin a close look and thought about if he was good looking. 

 

But boyfriends were supposed to consider each other cute, right? 

 

That’s what this whole act was built on, but Jihoon didn’t want to lie. He could at least admit that Woojin wasn’t  _ bad _ looking; he had that windswept, tousled hair that just seemed so perfectly messy, sunkissed skin, a cute snaggletooth—

 

Pause. 

 

What the  _ fuck _ is he thinking? 

 

“Fucking hell,” Jihoon complains, flopping onto his bed. 

 

Daehwi, who was reading a next to him, arched an eyebrow at the older’s dramatic reaction. “What’s got your panties in a twist?” 

 

Jihoon ignored Daehwi and the younger’s snarky reply, and he breathed out a big sigh. “Me and Woojin are doing this boyfriend tag thing, and someone asked me if I think Woojin is cute.”

 

“Shouldn’t that be easy to answer?” 

 

“I should be, but—”

 

Daehwi didn’t let Jihoon finish, snatching the older’s phone out of his hands and tapping in a rapid fire string of words into the text bubble. Jihoon didn’t have time to react before Daehwi tossed the phone back to him, a fox like smile on his lips. 

 

“Here.” 

 

“You’re looking quite flustered, Park Jihoon,” Daehwi snorts suddenly. 

Jihoon had been way too immersed into his phone to notice the younger boy staring at him, an amused smirk on his lips and the book he’d been reading long forgotten. He looks like he’s about to say more, but Jihoon points a finger at him and frowns.

“This is  _ literally _ your fault!” 

Daehwi shrugs. “Just doing you a favor so you don’t have to do it later. What got you blushing this way anyways?”

“Look,” he says, showing him the recent conversation he’s had with Woojin.  _ So much for doing this discreetly _ . “No matter how I think about it, it’s your fault.”

It’s not like he’s opposed to Woojin calling him  _ babe _ , he really isn’t. It has a nice ring to it, and they have to date for a month after all. Might as well do it properly, then.

It’s just that sometimes, the lines between them become a bit unclear— _ especially _ since they started this whole thing. And it shouldn’t be anything to worry about. After this is over, they can go back to their usual banter just like before. 

“Oh well,” Daehwi says, still sounding so fucking amused. The younger laughs. “Guess we’re really going places, after all.”

“Please shut the fuck up.”

 

**_[ MOVIE DATE ]_ **

 

“Park Woojin!” A voice calls from the distance, and Woojin is allowed about half a second to look up before the air is knocked out of him, Jihoon tackling him in a bone crushing hug. 

“I’m sorry I’m late,  _ please _ don’t pick the jump scare movie.” If possible, Jihoon tightens his hold on him, and Woojin laughs it off despite the strange stuttering of his heart, the traitorous thing skipping a beat for some inexplicable reason. 

Woojin shakes the thought away as he escapes Jihoon’s clingy hold, “It won’t be  _ that _ bad, okay? I promise.” He runs a hand through Jihoon’s hair, fixing the fly aways. “I’ll pay for the snacks, so at least let me pick.”

His best friend— _ boyfriend??? _ —looks skeptical for a second, but Woojin doesn’t allow him to chicken out, dragging him in by the hand. “And you can just hold my hand if it gets scary, no?” 

(Jihoon ignores the kick in his stomach, a hint of  _ something _ that makes his heart clench and palms sweat, and he rolls his eyes as he follows Woojin). 

  
  


If you asked him afterwards, Jihoon wouldn’t have remembered the name of the movie they watched. He thinks it was probably a foreign one—actors with blonde hair  and big muscles—, but nothing else stood out from the ordinary. The plot was boring, the characters were plain, and once you got past the initial suspenseful parts and first jumpscares, the remainder of the movie was a walk in the park.

The one thing Jihoon will always remember, though, is the good laugh he had when he looked over about half an hour into the movie to find Woojin holding onto the popcorn for dear life. 

Slowly leaning over, Jihoon whispers in Woojin’s ear, “Scared?” just as the ghost girl from the movie starts screaming again. 

 

Woojin jumps up in his seat, flailing with a shriek, hands instinctively reaching out for Jihoon. 

He whines when he notices Jihoon grinning at him, slapping at Jihoon’s chest with the back of his hand. Before he can pull away his hand, Jihoon tugs it back and holds it tightly. 

“What was this about holding your hand if I’m scared?” Jihoon teases, and he ignores the blush that’s definitely tinting his cheeks when Woojin groans, but laces their fingers together. 

Woojin rolls his eyes, and his lips purse in annoyance, “You’re not scared, though?”

“No, but you are,” Jihoon laughs, turning back to watch as the protagonist screams and flails about as the ghost chases her. 

He doesn’t let go of Woojin’s hand for the remainder of the movie.

_ What is this feeling? _

 

**_[ HALLOWEEN PARTY ]_ **

  
  


Glancing down at his jigglypuff costume one final time, Jihoon snorts to himself, and he sighs. 

 

What the fans want, the fans get, Jihoon thinks to himself as he takes out his phone to snap a quick selfie. 

 

It’s just past 10 pm when Jihoon knocks on Sungwoon’s door, pounding on it for a good minute. Jihoon quickly realizes it’s nearly impossible for anyone inside to actually hear him knocking. Jihoon could hear the music coming from Sungwoon’s apartment from down the hall, so it’s bound to be loud inside, and he sends a text to Woojin asking the younger to let him in.

 

Surely, within a minute, Sungwoon’s door cracks open.

 

Woojin’s voice floats in the air in a sing song tune. 

 

“What’s the password?” 

 

Jihoon rolls his eyes. Of course Woojin would be annoying enough to play around with Jihoon before allowing him inside. Woojin’s face is barely visible through the tiny crack of the door, but Jihoon just  _ knows _ he’s got a shit eating grin on his face.   

He crosses his arms. “Do you know who I am, Park Woojin?”

 

Woojin opens the door just wide enough to  stick his head out, looking Jihoon up and down for a moment in confusion. Woojin’s eyes lock with his, and the younger snorts. “Jigglypuff?” 

 

“No.” Jihoon pokes the tip of Woojin’s nose, grimacing at Woojin when the younger pokes out his tongue to lick Jihoon’s finger. “I’m your  _ boyfriend _ . Move aside and tell me I look cute.”

 

Woojin pouts, unsatisfied, but he listens to Jihoon, and the door swings open.

 

“Come on in,” Woojin hangs onto the door, holding it with one hand, the other in his pocket, “my dear boyfriend.” 

It’s only then that Jihoon gets a good look at Woojin, and his lips part in shock, taking in a sharp breath of air. 

 

Jihoon isn’t sure what exactly he expected a “sexy firefighter” to look like, but Woojin  _ does  _ kinda look like one—clad in a tight navy t-shirt that clings to his upper body a little too well and leaves just enough to the imagination, fire pants that hug his hips, red suspenders that fall against his thighs—, and he unfortunately pulls off the look really,  _ really _ annoyingly well. The tousled hair, smokey eye makeup, and messy smudges of black on his cheeks only add to it, and Jihoon catches himself drooling. 

 

Woojin looks really fucking hot. 

 

A smirk plays on Woojin’s lips.

 

“Thanks.”

 

_ Oh dear God, did Jihoon say that out loud? _

 

Woojin snickers, stupid lazy smile tugging at his lips, and he messes up Jihoon’s hair. “You look cute.” 

 

Jihoon colors in embarrassment—or is he blushing?—, and he groans, smacking Woojin’s chest with the back of his hand as he walks into the house. “Shut up.”  

 

Woojin cocks his head to the side and closes the door behind Jihoon, grinning at Jihoon with the force of a million suns, “I’m only following orders.” 

  
  
  


Jihoon lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding once Woojin hops onto the couch and snuggles up to him; latching onto Jihoon’s side and grinning at him. Though the heat of the party has Woojin’s hair a little damp with sweat, he still looks absolutely perfect, and Jihoon’s heart clenches when Woojin’s hand gravitates to his hair, playing with the ends, “So, you missed me, huh?” 

 

“Actually, I just got bored.” Jihoon grunts, smiling sweetly as he lies through his teeth. He pins Woojin with a glare, “You ditched me.” 

 

“Sorry, babe.” Woojin pouts, shoulders dropping and eyes widening with guilt like a kicked puppy. “I’ll stay with you now!” 

 

Jihoon basks in Woojin’s attention as the younger goes off on some tangent about Seongwu’s costume and how Jisung’s fake blood is clearly fake. At some point Jihoon zones out, and Jihoon isn’t listening to Woojin’s words as much as he’s just simply listening to the soothing rise and fall of Woojin’s voice.

 

It’s almost too natural (and scary) how Woojin and Jihoon gravitate to one another—completely ignoring the concept of personal space as Woojin plays with Jihoon’s hands and Jihoon drapes his legs over Woojin’s thighs. 

 

Jihoon doesn’t register just how close they actually are until some drunk girl walks into the couch and falls onto it, knocking into Jihoon in the process and pushing him into Woojin’s chest—well,  _ more _ into it, considering the fact that his shoulder was pressed against Woojin, halfway on his lap, the entire time he listened to Woojin talk about a video he had watched yesterday.

 

The video doesn’t matter though, not as much as  _ this _ , whatever the hell this  _ is _ , this position that they’re in. 

 

Woojin doesn’t look bothered though, hand on Jihoon’s thigh so the other doesn’t fall off of the couch, and Jihoon decides that if Woojin doesn’t care, then he shouldn’t either. 

 

The two watch as the girl retches up her drink into Sungwoon’s favorite vase. 

 

Woojin snorts at the scene, mumbling something about how “that’s tragic”. Jihoon got rid of his pink hoodie a long time ago, so Woojin laughs into Jihoon’s bare shoulder, hot breath fanning over the crook of Jihoon’s exposed neck and sending a shiver down his spine. 

 

“In the words of Twitter, oof.” Woojin’s lips are too close to Jihoon’s ear, voice too low, and he tenses. Jihoon can’t hear anything other than Woojin’s voice, the pounding in his ears, and the racing of his heart.

 

Woojin senses the change in atmosphere immediately, tracing circles into the skin of Jihoon’s hip in comfort, and his eyes dart to Jihoon’s, trying to read him; to decode his body language and search for the answers Jihoon isn’t willing to say out loud. 

 

Jihoon doesn’t look away. 

 

All Jihoon can think about is how close he and Woojin are, and how the skin of Woojin’s nape is so warm under his fingertips, and the only question on his mind is how it would feel to actually kiss Woojin; to close the distance between them and capture Woojin’s pretty lips in a soft kiss. 

 

Woojin’s eyes dip, and Jihoon just  _ knows _ he’s looking at his lips too, but is he wondering the same thing? 

 

_ Is Woojin wondering what it would be like to kiss him? _

 

It’s okay to kiss your boyfriend, right? 

 

Jihoon ignores how his mind automatically thinks of Woojin as his  _ boyfriend _ —how Woojin is no longer  _ just _ strictly his best friend.

 

Since when had the line blurred? 

 

Just as suddenly as they slipped under the strange trance, they break free from it, startling and jumping away from each other, Jihoon sliding off of Woojin’s lap and Woojin folding his hands. Jihoon coughs into his fist and Woojin clears his throat. 

 

“I think I’m going to go home now.” Jihoon scratches his nape, avoiding Woojin’s eyes at all costs. 

 

“Didn’t you drink?” Woojin grunts and holds Jihoon’s hand to steady him. “You shouldn’t drive.” 

 

“Only a little.” Jihoon shrugs, waving Woojin off. “I’ll be fine.”

 

Woojin ignores Jihoon’s protests, as he always does, and he stands up too, digging in his pockets for his keys with one hand and holding Jihoon’s hand with the other. Woojin tugs on Jihoon’s hand, “Come on, I’m taking you home.” 

 

Jihoon swallows around the tightness in his throat, and he forces himself to think about anything other than how perfectly Woojin’s fingers fit in the spaces between his own. 

 

Woojin and Jihoon walk to the younger’s car in silence, hands still entwined, and Jihoon is at ease; he’s safe and comfortable with Woojin by his side. Exhaustion from a long day at university weighs down on Jihoon’s shoulders, and he leans more of his weight on Woojin, eyes falling closed, strides growing slow and staggered. 

 

Jihoon doesn’t fight him when Woojin tugs on his hand. “Hop on my back.” Jihoon grumbles something about how he’s heavy and Woojin should take care of his back more, but he’s tired and Woojin is stubborn and too considerate for his own good. 

 

Woojin crouches down and grunts for Jihoon to climb on. 

 

“You’re too nice to me, Park Woojin.” Jihoon mumbles as he completely melts against Woojin’s broad back, dropping his chin onto Woojin’s shoulder and snuggling into the crook of his neck. 

 

Woojin snickers and the sound goes straight to Jihoon’s heart. “You love it.” 

 

Jihoon hums. “Yeah, I do.” He circles his arms around Woojin’s shoulders, fingertips lightly touching the cotton of his shirt with each stride Woojin takes. He plays with the smooth metal of Woojin’s necklace, smiling into the younger’s shoulder when he realizes it’s the one he gifted him 6 years ago. “You still wear this?” 

 

“Of course.” Woojin nods, “You gave it to me.” Woojin says it so easily, as if it’s odd that Jihoon would even question it, and Jihoon wonders how someone like Woojin could even exist; someone who cares so genuinely and trusts with his entire being. 

 

He’s overcome with a rush of adoration and an emotion that he can’t name yet; a crashing wave of  _ something _ that makes him want to choke on his tears and jump for joy at once. 

 

Jihoon doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything. 

 

He simply turns Woojin’s face closer to him and presses a kiss onto his cheek. 

 

Jihoon is a little embarrassed (and  _ a lot _ shocked that he actually did  _ that _ ), but he doesn’t regret it. 

 

“Did someone spike your drink?” Woojin laughs after a moment, and the hearty sound makes Jihoon smile—he can hear the smile in Woojin’s voice, and though he can’t see it, he knows it’s radiant. “What’s got you acting so soft?”

 

“No, no one spiked my drink.” Jihoon rests his head on Woojin’s shoulder again, cheek rubbing at the fabric of Woojin’s shirt. Jihoon’s voice comes out  a lot softer than he intended, but he doesn’t bother to say it differently. “I just love you a lot.” 

 

Woojin doesn’t turn his head and Jihoon doesn’t bother to look, but Jihoon thinks he knows what kind of warmth is pooling in Woojin’s eyes, what kind of smile is playing on Woojin’s lips, what kind of light Woojin radiates.

 

“I love you too, Jihoonie.” 

 

Jihoon’s heart skips a beat, and maybe exhaustion is playing games with him, but when his fingertips linger on the front of Woojin’s shirt, he can feel the racing of Woojin’s heart.

  
  
  


“Wake me up when we get there, okay?” Jihoon mumbles as he closes his eyes, curling into a ball as soon as Woojin lowers him into his car.

 

“You sleep like you’re dead, though?” Woojin snickers, hands busy as he tugs on Jihoon’s seat belt for him. “I’ll just drag you up to your apartment.” 

 

Jihoon grunts, knowing that Woojin would just pick him up bridal style and take him directly to his bed—Woojin knows that Jihoon has a spare key above his door frame (“Only dumbasses put their spare key under the welcome mat, Woojin.”)—and he always tucks him in, so it’s a win-win for Jihoon. “Sounds like a plan.” 

 

Woojin closes the door and slides into the driver’s side. “Are you cold?” 

 

Jihoon shakes his head, but Woojin knows him too well. The heater kicks on without missing a beat, and Woojin messes with the radio next, switching the channel to one playing soothing music. 

 

The last thing that Jihoon registers before falling into a calming sleep is Woojin’s voice and the warm feeling of home.

 

“Goodnight, my love.” 

  
  


**_[ WOOJIN’S BIRTHDAY ]_ **

  
  


When Jihoon wakes up, it’s to a familiar yet so,  _ so  _ unfamiliar setting. He’s in Woojin’s bedroom—in his  _ bed _ , to be more specific. There’s sunlight streaming in through the windows, soft stripes of light that make Woojin’s room look a little bit more like home, and Jihoon feels warm and comfortable under Woojin’s blankets. 

Jihoon is trying to find the perfect position, determined to get at least a few more minutes of sleep, when he notices something is holding him in place. 

_ Oh?  _

Jihoon looks down to find two strong arms circled around his waist, and when he moves to escape Woojin’s hold, the younger only hugs him closer to his chest. 

_ How did this happen _ , Jihoon thinks to himself curiously as he tries his best to turn around and face the other boy without waking him up. It’s not the first time, them sleeping over at each other’s places, that is, but  _ this _ , this waking up in Woojin’s arms thing, well, this is new. 

It had been a conscious decision, barging into Woojin’s apartment near midnight. He knew perfectly what he was doing. It is Woojin’s birthday, after all, and Jihoon was determined to spend at least some of it completely together with the two of them.

It’s selfish, he knows, but after that Halloween party, Jihoon found himself desperately hoping for _something_ , anything, to happen. What that something actually _is_ , he still doesn’t know, but Jihoon thinks that maybe the heavens had listened to him. 

Something has fundamentally changed between them, and Jihoon doesn’t know what it is, or  _ how  _ it happened, but something feels different. 

Woojin sighs in his sleep, and Jihoon glances up to look at him. The younger is still in a deep slumber, soft snores and breaths escaping through pouty parted lips. He looks peaceful, calm, vulnerable, nothing like the usual hurricane that is Park Woojin. 

As Jihoon stares at Woojin, studies his face, traces his features with his finger, he absentmindedly finds himself thinking about how lucky he is to have Woojin as his best friend, and how life really works in strange ways. It’s odd and honestly a little scary to date your best friend for a month as a YouTube challenge, but here they are. 

And in two weeks, it would all be over. 

Jihoon’s heart races anxiously in his chest as the thought dawns on him—almost like it’s  _ protesting _ .

He doesn’t want to think about what that could mean.

Jihoon closes his eyes and forces himself to fall asleep to the sound of Woojin’s heartbeat.

  
  


Jihoon and Woojin are halfway into Ponyo, legs tangled under the million blankets piled in a mountain on Woojin’s bed. Woojin’s arms are lazily draped around Jihoon as the elder leans his head on Woojin’s shoulder, a fried chicken bucket on Jihoon’s lap for the two of them to share. 

 

In a quiet world of two, Jihoon and Woojin stay in this position for a while, not saying a word or bothering to move from each other though sweat made Jihoon’s palms slick. 

 

Jihoon glanced at his phone to check the time and read through he and Daehwi’s texts, making a mental note to himself: Daehwi said that he and other others would come in a little under two hours.

 

He hoped that Woojin would enjoy his present, that Woojin would laugh in that loud, obnoxious way of his, that today would be Woojin’s favorite birthday yet. Jihoon asked Daehwi to pick it up for him back at his place, and Jihoon just prayed that it got to Woojin’s house in one piece. 

 

“Hey,” Woojin groaned through a yawn, tugging Jihoon closer to himself as he turned on his side, “What are you looking at?”

 

“Oh, me?” Jihoon asked with a laugh, quickly locking his phone. Jihoon plasters on an innocent smile. “Nothing. Just our followers wishing you a happy birthday.”

 

Believing him without hesitation, Woojin stared at him for a second and nodded, and Jihoon thought the conversation was over with that, but Woojin continued to mumble something as he watched the movie.

 

“You know, it’s thanks to them that you’re kinda here with me right now.”

 

Jihoon cocks his head to the side, arching a brow, “It is?”

 

“I suppose, yeah.” Woojin shrugs. “We wouldn’t have our channel without them, we wouldn’t have started making videos… “ Woojin trails off with a content smile on his lips, and Jihoon stares as the colorful scenes playing on the TV color Woojin’s face with blues, reds, and yellows. Woojin breathes out a chuckle, “And we wouldn’t be here in my room watching Ponyo and eating fried chicken right now. So, yeah.” 

 

Jihoon holds his breath as Woojin continues, and Woojin says it all so simply, as if it was all fact, like a truth written in the stars, and something about the certainty in his voice makes Jihoon’s heart clench.

 

Woojin looks at him now, and Jihoon can’t look away. 

 

“Without them I wouldn’t have you, not like this, so I’m grateful.”

 

_ Not like this. _

 

It’s only then that Jihoon notices just how close they really are, distance and space little to none, Woojin smiles at him, soft and fond, and Jihoon feels blood rush to his cheeks, a raging blush inching up his neck in embarrassment. 

 

Woojin’s never been the cheesy, sentimental type, so Jihoon doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do after hearing those words from Woojin.

 

Is he supposed to hug him? Is he supposed to thank him? Is he supposed to  _ kiss _ him?

 

Jihoon plays it safe, and he laughs. “I could say the same.”

 

Woojin only grunts back in response, no longer interested by the conversation (Jihoon wishes he could actually “say the same” to that), going back to the movie.

  
  
  


“Thanks for spending the day with me,” Woojin grins as the credits of Ponyo start rolling. “I know you could have spent it doing other things, so it means a lot to me, Hoon.”

 

“It’s what friends are for,” is what comes out of Jihoon’s mouth despite the million of other things he could have said. 

 

The word— _ friends _ —makes Jihoon’s gut twist, a bitter taste in his mouth, and that alone is enough to make Jihoon panic (as if he hasn’t gone through enough of that today). He has called Woojin his friend for years, but now, it just doesn’t feel like the right word to label Woojin. 

 

Not anymore.

 

As if saving Jihoon from further Woojin-induced panic, his phone goes off and startles Jihoon from his trance. 

 

Jihoon jumps up from Woojin’s bed, straightening his shirt and heading for the door. “Oh, uh I forgot!” Jihoon winces at the awkward laugh he forces out. “I ordered pizza! I’ll go get it.”

 

“You did?” Woojin cocks his head to the side, staring at the now empty bucket of chicken at the foot of his bed. “After the chicken?”

 

Jihoon nods,  “Um… Yeah.”

 

“Okay.” Woojin still looks hesitant, but he follows Jihoon out of bed. “I’ll go with you then.”

 

“No!” Jihoon blurts out in panic, embarrassment coloring his cheeks when Woojin stares at him in confusion. “Uh. You don’t have to.”

 

“Uh… okay?” Woojin says slowly, as if Jihoon would startle, now more confused than anything. The younger has one hand on his doorknob, and he looks at Woojin with patient eyes. “I want to.”

 

Jihoon breathes out a long sigh, knowing he wouldn’t win this battle, and he texts Daehwi a quick warning that Woojin was with him as he walks to Woojin’s front door, the younger following behind. His heart calms the slightest when the younger immediately texts back with a thumbs up. 

 

As if Daehwi was waiting for the green light the entire time, the doorbell rings seconds later, and Jihoon almost jumps out of his skin.

 

It was time.

 

He looked back at Woojin, who was curious as to why his friend was so hesitant to open the door, and he prays to whatever god is listening to make this go well.

 

Woojin pokes his shoulder, “What are you waiting for?”

 

Jihoon takes a deep, grounding breath. “Can you open the door for me?”

 

“Why?” Woojin snorts at the question. “Are we on a date or something?”

 

Jihoon doesn’t even have the heart to roll his eyes at Woojin’s snarky comment, too nervous to do anything other than stutter out some excuse. 

 

“I just… ” Jihoon trails off, searching for something believable to say. “I feel like you should. I’m superstitious.”

 

That was a bad excuse. 

 

Jihoon really had to scold himself for that one. 

 

Infinitely more suspicious, Woojin stares at him with narrowed eyes as he turns the doorknob. “Park Jihoon, I swear to God if you sent a mariachi band to my house like you did last year—“

 

“Fuck the mariachi band!” a voice calls from outside followed by loud laughter. “He sent something even  _ better _ .”

 

“What the fuck?” Woojin mumbles, surprised by the voice. The younger looks from the door to Jihoon. “This isn’t a pizza delivery guy—“

 

“Of course it isn’t, dumbass,” another voice shoots back. “Come on, really?”

 

Before Woojin could say more, Jihoon nudges him to the side and swings open the door. Jisung, Sungwoon, Minhyun, Seongwu, Jaehwan, Daniel, Daehwi, Jinyoung, and Kuanlin come flooding through the door one after another, smothering the snaggletoothed boy in a group hug.

 

The group choruses a loud “Happy Birthday, Woojin!”

 

“Guys? What?” Woojin blurts out dumbly, still dazed as the group hug dissolves. “Who invited you all here?”

 

Daehwi rolls his eyes, pointing behind him with a finger. “Jihoon hyung did! He planned this for you.” The younger shoots him an unimpressed look, “My God, how stupid can you get?”

 

10 pairs of eyes darted to Jihoon who only cracked a shy smile, awkwardly scratching the back of his head

 

“Um… “ Jihoon forces an awkward laugh, and he turns to Woojin. “Happy birthday, love.”

 

A moment of silence followed, the tips of Woojin’s ears burned a hot, firetruck red, and their friends completely lost it.

 

“Love?” Seongwu parroted, eyes wide and mouth wide open in exaggerated shock. “Did he say  _ love _ ?!” 

 

“My sons… they grow up so fast.” Jisung fake-sobs into his hands and turns to Sungwoon with a sigh. “I love young love, don’t you?”

 

“Shut up, guys,” Woojin glared, rolling his eyes. He bit his lip to hide his growing smile, and he tugs on Jihoon’s hand to comfort the older.

 

The action doesn’t go unnoticed by Daehwi if the younger’s sly smile meant anything, but he doesn’t comment on it. “Okay, Minhyun hyung and Jaehwan hyung didn’t drive forty minutes across town to let this food go to waste. Come on, let’s celebrate!”

  
  
  


“Happy birthday to you!” the boys sang, party hats on messy hair and small confetti cannons in hand “Happy birthday to you… Happy birthday, dear Woojinnie… Happy birthday to you!”

 

Jisung had switched off all of the lights in Woojin’s kitchen, and the eleven of them crowded around the small counter to sing Woojin happy birthday. Daehwi had forced a paper cone party hat onto Woojin’s bed hair, and Daniel swiped icing onto the younger’s nose, the candles lighting up his happy face. 

 

Jihoon could make out all the little golden flecks in Woojin’s eyes, the way his eyes turned into little crescent moons when he laughed with his friends, and the way his smile shone even in the dark.

 

Woojin truly was his light. 

 

Jihoon was quiet as the song ended, and Woojin was holding his breath, careful not to blow out the candles too soon.

 

“Make a wish, Woojin ah!” Minhyun whispers with a gentle smile.

 

Woojin nods with a smile, pausing in thought before finally blowing the candles out in one breath. The boys whooped and clapped, but they stopped as soon as they started noticing Woojin’s glassy eyes, the birthday boy on the verge of tears.

 

“Woojin, what’s wrong?” Jisung’s lips stick out in a concerned pout, panicked as he rubs the younger’s back. 

 

The other boys circled around him in concern.

 

“Woojinnie, don’t cry!”

 

“Are you okay?” 

 

“Did you not want this type of cake?”

 

Woojin looked up with watery eyes, and Jihoon’s heart breaks as the tears started falling, spilling down the younger’s cheeks uncontrollably. 

 

Jihoon gravitates to Woojin’s side, and the others move for him, allowing him to hold Woojin in his arms without question. Jihoon cradles Woojin’s face and wipes his tears away with gentle hands, whispering sweet nothings until the younger calms down. 

 

After a minute, Woojin nods and sniffles one last time, wiping his face in the palms of his sweater as he sends Jihoon a small smile.

 

“It’s not that.” Woojin chuckles, apologetic for making the others worry for him. “I just… I used to not have a lot of friends, so I never celebrated my birthday like this. I remember when I used to buy myself a cupcake at the local bakery and sing myself happy birthday because my parents worked late. But now I have you guys, so thank you.” Woojin grins, and he finds Jihoon’s hand. “It means a lot to me. Really.” 

 

The boys cooed and  _ awwww _ ed in response to Woojin, all moving in to smother him in another big group hug. 

 

“We are always going to be here for you, hyung!” Kuanlin exclaimed, latching onto Woojin like a koala. “We love you!”

 

Woojin laughs, “Thanks, Linnie.”

  
  
  


As soon as they finished eating, they forced the birthday boy into the living room and shoved haphazardly wrapped boxes into Woojin’s face, impatient and excited to watch Woojin react to their gifts. 

 

Overwhelmed by the eyes on him, Woojin snorts, “This is a lot of pressure.” He motions to the boxes around him, “You know you didn’t have to get me anything, right? Seriously, I don’t—“

 

Sungwoon rolls his eyes, “Just open the damn presents, Woojin.”

 

And so he did.

 

He first opened Seongwu’s present. It was messily taped with blue, seal printed wrapping paper. Ripping it open with a laugh, Woojin’s eyes light up as soon as he looks inside, touching the black t-shirt.

 

“Is this a Big Bang concert shirt?” Woojin’s jaw drops and he launches himself at the brunette, crushing him in a hug, “Hyung, how did you get this?” 

 

“I have my ways.” Seongwu replies with a lopsided smile.

 

Minhyun calls from the kitchen, “He found it on eBay.”

 

Seongwu glares at the older, making a death threat with his hands. “I did  _ not! _ ”

 

Woojin ripped open Daniel’s present next, which turned out to be a large kangaroo onesie.

 

“It just reminded me of you.” The blonde laughed with a warm grin, messing up Woojin’s hair when the younger rubbed his cheek on the soft material. “Use it in your videos some day.”

 

The boys continued to shove their gifts into his hands, Woojin’s heart growing twice in size with each one—it was clear that his friends had put a lot of thought into it, Daehwi even got Woojin a signed G-Dragon album, to which Woojin almost died, and maybe got teary eyed again. 

 

Soon enough, wrapping paper was all over the floor and Woojin’s gifts surrounded him, Woojin thanking his friends sincerely for each one.

 

“Before you say thanks, Woojie,” Minhyun said, nudging the boy with his hand. “I think there’s one last birthday present that you haven’t gotten yet.”

 

The boys all turned to Jihoon, eyes shining with excitement, and Jihoon coughed, glancing at the box in his hands and wondering if it was enough after the things the others got Woojin. Jihoon blushes and hands it to Woojin without a word. 

 

The moment Woojin looks into the little box, his eyes widen and his lips part in shock.

 

It wasn’t anything elegant or expensive, but the box was filled with sweet, thoughtful things that Jihoon put together himself—letters addressed to him, a small photo collage with pictures of them together, a pink sausage plushie, and something that caught Woojin’s eye the second he looked inside the box: it was a cassette tape with his name written on it.

 

Jihoon scratches his nape when Woojin picks up the cassette. “I made a list of songs that made me think of you.” Jihoon bites back a shy smile when Woojin absolutely beams at him, wide grin playing his lips as he touches the cassette affectionately. “Listen to it if you’re ever feeling down.” 

 

Woojin sends him a warm smile. “Thank you, Jihoonie.” 

 

“You’re forgetting one thing, though!” Jihoon points out, motioning to the box again. 

 

Woojin cocks his head to the side, looking at the box, and he makes a confused sound when he notices the red dog tag taped to the side of the box. Ripping the tape off, he holds the tag in his palm and hangs it on his finger for everyone to see.

 

The younger shoots him a questioning look, but Jihoon only smiles, signaling Daehwi to whistle.

 

“Max! Come here, boy!”

 

And lo and behold, the cutest puppy they had ever seen came running through the door, darting to the middle of the room and landing right in Woojin’s lap. The puppy had black and gray fur, ears that poked out like he was listening to Woojin’s words, and wide eyes that simply demanded love and attention. The cute puppy snuggled into the fabric of Woojin’s hoodie, standing on its hind legs and pawing at his chest before licking his face repeatedly.

 

“You told me how badly you’ve always wanted a dog, and I found this guy. His name’s Max.” Jihoon smiles as he watches Woojin smother the puppy with kisses. “I figured if you’d like… We can take care of him together.”

 

Without hesitation, Woojin launched himself at Jihoon and gathered him into a bone crushing hug, knocking the air out of Jihoon’s lungs and warming his heart.

 

“I’d love that.”

 

If Woojin holds Jihoon in his arms for longer than he did the others, and if Woojin looks at him with more than gratitude in his eyes, no one dares to comment on it.

  
  


**_[ NIGHT OF WOOJIN’S BDAY ]_ **

  
  


Woojin looks up from his phone to find Jihoon completely knocked out on his couch, exhaustion finally taking a toll on him as he snores softly. 

 

He watches with a laugh as Max wiggles under the weight of Jihoon’s arms, snuggling his small head into the crook of Jihoon’s shoulder. Jihoon was softly mumbling in his sleep, unconsciously bringing Max closer to his chest and hugging him like a pillow. 

 

_ Cute _ . Woojin smiled at the sight. 

 

In all honesty, although Woojin sent Jihoon his thanks through text not too long ago, and meant it with all of his heart, he wishes he could have said it better. Woojin can’t stop thinking about the time and patience Jihoon put into celebrating his birthday, hell, he didn’t know anyone would remember it, but Jihoon did, all of them did, and that makes all the difference in the world. 

 

Without thinking, he moves across the room and finds himself hovering over Jihoon.

 

“Thank you,” Woojin whispers, moving a stray hair out of Jihoon’s face.

 

Woojin has never taken the time to look at Jihoon this closely, and it was only now that he could appreciate Jihoon’s features in full; fair skin, soft strands of hair that Woojin just wanted to run his hands through, and soft, crimson lips that tempted him, calling him in for a sweet kiss—

 

Pause. 

 

Was there something in his birthday cake, because  _ what  _ was he just thinking? 

 

In the last couple of days, Woojin’s mind and heart have clashed a million times, in constant conflict because of the boy sleeping on his couch. 

 

Though things have changed and Woojin doesn’t know what he should think of it all, his thoughts always come back to Jihoon, and Woojin doesn’t know how to make it stop—he doesn’t know if he  _ wants _ to make it stop. 

 

It’s an act, though, isn’t it? 

 

This entire thing is an act. Their friendship is real, and it will always be real, but this relationship is nothing but a challenge, and it’s Woojin who’s the fool (the fool who is secretly wanting it to become a reality). 

 

Something inside of him makes him closer to Jihoon, a gravitational force that is more parts psychological than it is physical, and he’s only inches from the older boy. 

 

Woojin’s body moves on its own, and before he can think to hold himself back, Woojin’s lips touch soft, warm skin, and he had placed an innocent kiss on Jihoon’s cheek. 

 

It takes a moment for the realization to dawn on him, and when it does, he immediately tumbles back in shock. While one side of him was planning a wedding, the other side of him was screaming in panic. 

 

What he just did isn’t something that  _ just friends  _ do. 

 

Seongwu’s words echo in his head, the teasing, knowing loop making a home of dread in the bottom of his stomach. 

 

 _I_ _think you’re just in denial, Woojie._

 

Woojin touches his lips with his hands, his heart racing faster than it ever has before, as if it’s trying to jump right out of his chest. Woojin’s head erupts with a swarm of thoughts, scenarios and trains of thought making a maze out of his mind, but only a single question manages to fall through his parted lips:

 

“Am I in love… with Jihoon?”

  
  


Jihoon is drifting in and out of sleep when he vaguely senses Woojin’s presence near him. Everyone has left by now, just the two of them remaining in Woojin’s small apartment. It’s nothing unusual, moreso considering he’s been here  _ all day _ , but the air seems more charged, somehow? 

He does what he can to ignore it, not wanting to complicate things further. Jihoon figures he’s fine here, on the couch. Woojin, on the other side of the room, heaves a heavy sigh. The sound of his phone unlocking—Woojin apparently has never heard of silent mode—and the incessant  _ click click click _ of typing. 

Jihoon allows himself be lulled into a dreamscape by the rhythmic tapping of Woojin’s phone. He’s pretty much asleep by the time Woojin locks his phone and walks over. 

Max is snuggled in his arms, comfortable and small, and Jihoon snuggles even closer to the small puppy. 

He’s pulled out of his slumber when he hears the faint whisper of a  _ thank you _ above him. Jihoon forces his features to remain neutral, his eyes closed, mind foggy and thoughts hazy. He does register whose voice it is, though, and his heart automatically skips a beat. 

The hands of unconsciousness weigh down on his shoulders, slowly dragging him under, and Jihoon faintly acknowledges a warm hand gently caressing his face, sweeping his bangs out of his eyes. 

And then, the world ends, because Jihoon feels the ghost of a pair of chapped lips on his cheek. 

It’s enough to wake him completely, and in a poor attempt of pretending to be asleep, he stills. Woojin startles, lurching back quickly as if burned, and thinking he’s been found out, Jihoon slowly opens his eyes to look at Woojin—

—only to find the younger sitting back with a look of conflict in his eyes. 

  
  


Woojin, through his inner turmoil, doesn’t notice him immediately, and Jihoon debates whether or not he should go back to pretending he’s asleep or to keep his eyes wide open. 

The look on his boyfriend’s— _ best friend _ ’ _ s?— _ face is one of confusion, of sadness, of conflict, and of a myriad of feelings all at once. Jihoon honestly doesn’t know what to make of it. 

Does Woojin…  _ regret it _ ? 

Before he has time to decide that maybe it’s better for him to close his eyes again and normalise his breathing, Woojin looks up again. Their eyes lock, and Woojin takes a sharp breath in mild horror. “Jihoon! Jihoon…”

“Hey,” he answers, propping himself up on his elbows. Max yips in his arms, annoyed at being woken up. Woojin inches closer to him again, but he still keeps a healthy distance. 

( _ It’s too much _ , something in Jihoon says.  _ It’s still too much _ .) 

“Jihoon, look. I’m sorry.” Woojin blurts out. “I didn’t mean to… I don’t know. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I’m just…” He chokes out in one breath, and he sighs. “Yeah.” 

It’s obvious the regret in Woojin’s voice isn’t because he  _ kissed _ him, but because he’s scared he might have hurt Jihoon with it. 

And sure, something  _ is _ hurting. Just not in the way Woojin probably thinks it is. 

“It’s alright, Woojinnie,” Jihoon answers, genuinely. In the back of his mind, a vague memory resurfaces of him kissing Woojin’s cheek after the Halloween party, hanging off of his back, and he winces internally. “I don’t mind it. Not at all.” 

Woojin breathes out a long sigh, sounding a lot more relieved than he probably should be. He had no reason to be scared. Not when Jihoon, well, he can’t finish the thought, not when Woojin leans in closer to absentmindedly scratch behind Max’s ears, the puppy asleep again on his lap. 

Woojin looks up to meet his eyes, and it’s  _ too  _ close. 

A closeness Jihoon had been yearning for just seconds ago, but now it feels like almost too much. His heart, his brain—they’re tired of the push and pull, his emotions contradicting each other as much as his soul is. 

Time stills, and neither of them know how long they’re staring at each other, the air around them charged the same way it had been on Sungwoon’s couch.

“Let’s go to sleep,” Woojin whispers, an infinite amount of time later. “Can’t have you sleeping on the sofa here, can we?” 

“Yeah,” Jihoon answers a little breathless. He lets Woojin pull him up, lets him take the hand he’s not using to carry Max, lets him entwine their fingers.

They put Max into the bench Daehwi brought along, just for tonight, before they climb under the covers together. “We’ll have to take him out for potty break by morning,” Jihoon whispers. 

“Let’s look into the logistics tomorrow, yeah?” Woojin’s breath fans across his face when he responds. Jihoon finds himself nodding, and then nothing else but comfortable silence surrounds them.

He sighs contentedly when he feels Woojin wrap his arms around him, not hesitating this time around. “Thank you, once again. You are the best thing that has happened to me. I’m so glad I met you. Really, really glad.” 

Something in his words hits Jihoon right in his heart, so much that it puts all the conflict his emotions have gone through the past few weeks to a halt, to a conclusion, just for a moment. “I love you,” Woojin continues sleepily, and Jihoon takes the plunge. 

Jihoon leans forward, slowly and with enough care that Woojin, even with his sleepy state, has enough time to stop him. 

But Woojin doesn’t, so Jihoon hesitantly presses their lips together. It’s slow, short, but it sets every inch of him on fire. 

Woojin looks at him for a moment as they pull apart. Then, he cradles the back of Jihoon’s head and kisses him again. It’s innocent, chaste, but a little firmer this time. A spark, waiting to be explored.

“Goodnight,” he whispers against Jihoon’s mouth, and Jihoon almost doesn’t hear it, too preoccupied with the rage of emotions spinning like a tornado around his heart. 

“Goodnight,” Jihoon whispers back, but he knows he will have a hard time falling asleep tonight. There is no way in hell Jihoon’s heart will slow down enough. Not when  _ that  _ just happened, not when he just did what he should have done a long time ago, not when Woojin reincorporated without hesitating, not when he doesn’t know what the hell this even  _ means  _ anymore. 

The beginning of what feels a lot like anxiety pools at the pit of his stomach when he thinks about how the fuck they’re going to face each other when morning comes—whether it’ll be awkward, whether Woojin will forget about it, whether they’ll talk about it or not. 

It takes a moment of Jihoon to process that  _ this _ compromises everything they have built between themselves during all those years of friendship. 

And even though he’s not sure what that even means anymore, what they even  _ are _ —best friends,  _ boyfriends _ (although they’re not  _ really  _ boyfriends, right?)—, Jihoon doesn’t find himself regretting it.

_ It’s just a kiss _ , he tries to convince himself, to make himself believe it, although he knows it wasn’t  _ just _ that. It couldn’t have been.

He wonders if this is what everyone calls  _ love _ , and it makes so much sense that it should be scary. Yet somehow, it’s not. At least,  _ that _ part isn’t. Loving Woojin isn’t scary. The thought of what will happen between them, though, what will happen to their friendship if it goes wrong, is scarier than any nightmare Jihoon has had. 

He watches as Woojin falls into sleep’s hands, breaths even and arms still around Jihoon. 

Before Jihoon finally,  _ finally _ falls asleep, he wonders if he just paved himself the way to heartbreak.  

 

**_[ DAY AFTER WOOJIN’S BDAY ]_ **

  
  


By the time Jihoon stirs awake, the sun is hanging high in the morning sky, yellow and radiant against the clear blue sky. Jihoon hates that the weather is so nice on a day that his emotions are a ugly mess of grays and question marks—it’s like the world is mocking him. Soft stripes of light peek through the cracks of Woojin’s curtains and shine in his eyes, and Jihoon groans, tugging the blanket over his head. 

 

Over the sound of his own breathing, Jihoon picks up on the faint thudding of someone moving around in another room. 

 

_ Oh? _

 

Jihoon stretches his arm across the bed and finds the spot next to him empty, the only trace of Woojin being the fading warmth of the cotton linens and the dip in the pillow. 

 

If Jihoon finds himself missing Woojin’s warmth pressed up against him, he ignores the thought altogether. 

 

He props himself up on Woojin’s headboard, hugging a pillow to his chest as he watches Woojin slip into the room— _ oh. _

 

Jihoon gulps.

 

Woojin is fresh out of the shower, sweatpants hanging low on his hips and towel thrown over one shoulder carelessly, mop of hair dripping wet,  _ and _ he’s half naked. 

 

_ Okay. This is okay. _

 

Jihoon wonders if he should look away. 

 

Is it more platonic to shamelessly stare or to close your eyes?

 

Woojin tosses the towel onto the bed, and he rolls his shoulders, stretching to wake himself up— _ oh my God, this is not okay.  _

 

Jihoon’s mouth goes dry at the sight of Woojin’s toned muscles and smooth, tanned skin—have his shoulders always looked that broad?   

 

“Good morning, sunshine.” 

 

Woojin grins, lazy and radiant, and so fucking annoyingly cute.

 

“It’s too early for this.” Jihoon flops back onto the bed with a loud groan, curling into the blankets and turning his face away from the half naked demon in the room. “I’m going back to bed.”

 

Woojin snorts, and Jihoon can hear the cocky smile on his lips. “Do whatever you want.” Jihoon peeks up at the sound of clothes rustling, tossing the blanket off of him and rolling onto his side. Woojin’s pulling on a hoodie (Jihoon finds himself mourning the loss of abs and glowing skin) and a beanie. 

 

“Are you going somewhere?” Jihoon mumbles, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. 

 

“I’m going to take Max on a walk.” Woojin hums. “He’s probably sad cooped up in here.” 

 

If Jihoon’s heart melts a little bit at Woojin’s innocent consideration of Max’s feelings, he doesn’t dare think about it. Jihoon can’t stop the pleased laugh that slips from his lips, though, and he smiles. “Okay, come back with breakfast too, please. I’m hungry.” 

 

“I will.” Woojin returns the smile. “I’ll be back in half an hour, babe.” 

 

Babe.

 

The word falls from Woojin’s lips without hesitation, and it sounds so natural that Jihoon doesn’t even register it at first, and with that, the younger walks out of his room, low voice calling to  _ their _ puppy. 

 

Something awakens in Jihoon’s heart.

 

It’s only after Woojin’s front door clicks closed that Jihoon allows himself to think about what the hell just happened; waking up in Woojin’s bed and  _ missing _ the warmth of Woojin’s body; staying in Woojin’s bed as Woojin dresses; Woojin taking Max on a walk and grabbing breakfast for them; Woojin calling him babe and Jihoon not minding one bit.

 

Woojin, Woojin, Woojin. 

 

_ It’s nothing, Jihoon, you’re fake dating. It’s a pretend relationship. You’re just friends,  _ a voice in Jihoon’s head says. 

 

Jihoon hates that he can’t believe that—hates that he doesn’t  _ want _ to believe that.

 

Another thought plagues Jihoon’s mind, and the implications behind it knock the air out of Jihoon’s lungs.

 

_ Haven’t they done this a million times? What’s so different about it now?  _

 

(The answer is that they  _ have _ done this a million times, but something about it is so,  _ so _ different, and that’s what scares Jihoon.)

  
  
  


“So...” Jihoon mumbles, hands playing along the hem of his—Woojin’s—hoodie. 

 

It’s just after noon, after an entire day and a half in Woojin’s apartment, that Jihoon prepares to go home. 

 

The shorter takes longer than usual to tie his shoelaces, movements slow and hesitant, as if he doesn’t actually want to go, and Woojin knows that Jihoon is anxious about something. Woojin thinks he has a pretty good idea of what it’s about too; it couldn’t be anything other than the kiss they shared last night and the big, daunting elephant in the room. 

 

It’s like a hand around his throat, tension thick enough to suffocate him. Questions hang suspended in the air, and unspoken words weigh on Woojin’s tongue, bitter and uncomfortable.

 

_ What are we? _

 

It’s a question that has run through Woojin’s mind for the past couple of days. It’s what he thinks about when he stands under the cascade of his shower, when he waits for his ramen to cook, when he’s walking down the fine line of consciousness, when he wakes up in the morning to a cold bed. 

 

Woojin wonders if Jihoon will ask it. 

 

Woojin wonders if  _ he _ should ask it.   

 

But, of course, no one wants to be the one to light the match that will ignite a wildfire.

 

Jihoon stares at Woojin from underneath his lashes, and Woojin can almost hear the gears turning in Jihoon’s head, calculating and re-calculating, thinking and thinking again. 

 

“We should post a video soon.” is what Jihoon finally says, a small, conflicted look on his face. 

 

Though this is the exact thing Woojin had  _ expected _ Jihoon to say, something about the way his heart falls to the pit of his stomach makes Woojin think that maybe he  _ wanted _ Jihoon to say something,  _ anything,  _ else.  

 

“Yeah.” Woojin nods, heart pounding in his chest and palms sweaty. An unreadable emotion flickers in Jihoon’s eyes, and considering Jihoon’s pursed lips and the way his brows draw together, Woojin knows that his own eyes mirror it. “Text me when you’re home.”

 

Jihoon grunts, and he reaches for Woojin, body swaying, as if to hug him or to kiss him, but he stops himself, hand frozen. Woojin watches in silence as Jihoon fights himself, fingers twitching around thin air, eyes clouded with a jaded kind of confusion. 

 

He doesn’t say a thing when Jihoon’s hands drop. He doesn’t say a thing when Jihoon waves, forcing a smile as he moves away, walking backwards with his hands in his pockets. He doesn’t say a thing when he closes the door after Jihoon disappears behind the corner. 

 

Woojin immediately presses his back to the cool surface and sinks to the ground, holding his head in his hands and breathing out a long sigh as he mumbles to himself, “This wasn’t supposed to happen, Park Jihoon.” 

 

No matter how many times Woojin reminds himself that Jihoon is his  _ friend _ , that nothing has changed (that Jihoon looks at him the same way he always has, that touching Jihoon doesn’t make his heart race, that  _ kissing  _ Jihoon is nothing, that it  _ means _ nothing), something  _ has _ fundamentally changed in their friendship—relationship?—, and it’s only a matter of time before it blows up in his face. 

  
  


**_[ Q &A FILMING ]_ **

  
  


Woojin doesn’t know how long he’s alternated between reading through his texts and staring at a spot on his ceiling for, but apparently he’s wasted an hour of his life doing just that, if the knocking on his front door and Jihoon’s impatient call of “Knock knock, loser!” is anything to go by. 

 

He startles, jumping up from his spot on the couch and nearly falling over as blood rushes to his head, a dull pain forming at the front of his skull and black spots dotting his vision. 

 

Jihoon continues to knock at his door, and Woojin grumbles. “Will you quit that?”

 

The brunette’s pudgy fist is still pounding away when Woojin swings the door open, pinning Jihoon with a glare intense enough to kill. He groans, holding his head in his hands, “Do you not have a single ounce of patience in that little body of yours?”

 

“Nope!” Jihoon pops the P with a happy grin, beaming up at Woojin with the force of a million suns. Woojin doesn’t ease his glare, but he finds himself looking away as if blinded.  

 

“You will be the death of me, Park Jihoon.” Woojin sighs, walking away from the door and waving Jihoon to come in and close the door behind him, plopping down on his couch again and cuddling Max when the puppy bounds up to him. 

 

“I know.” Jihoon chirps back. Woojin can’t see Jihoon, but he can hear the small smile in Jihoon’s voice, and he has to fight the urge to turn and watch the slow way the corners of Jihoon’s lips rise, the way his eyes twinkle with pure happiness; the way his entire face lights up—

 

_ What? _

 

The puppy in his arms licks his cheek as if to say “it’s okay, Woojin!”, but the puppy’s entire existence reminds Woojin of the source of all of his problems: the devil incarnate raiding his fridge for his favorite yogurt.  

 

“Don’t eat all of my yogurt, you brat!” Woojin calls out as his ears pick up on the sound of a spoon falling into his kitchen sink.

 

“Don’t act like you didn’t buy it ‘cause I said it was my favorite!” Jihoon bites back, waving a yogurt covered spoon in Woojin’s direction. “It’s _ my _ yogurt.” 

 

Woojin heaves a long sigh. 

 

It’s going to be a long day.

  
  
  


The two stare blankly at the camera before them for a minute in silence, both uncertain of how to start the video. At the back of Woojin’s mind, an annoying voice makes sure to point out that there’s a heavy tension in the air, an almost palpable cloud of  _ something _ that hangs above them and makes the both of them fidget uncomfortably. 

 

Filming always came easily to them, like second nature, they could probably do it in their sleep, and they never actually had to  _ think _ about how to start a video, or what to film, or who should say what, and that knowledge only makes the situation all the more unfamiliar—it was so  _ easy _ in the past, and  _ now _ … well, now it’s not so easy.

 

This ain’t it, chief. 

 

Woojin looks over at Jihoon, not saying a word, face completely still, but Jihoon understands, and he falls into a bout of laughter. 

 

“Don’t look at me like that, Woojin!” Jihoon snorts, hands flying from his mouth to Woojin’s shoulder, leaning on Woojin’s arm as his body shakes with uncontrollable laughter. Woojin finds himself laughing too, lips rising into a grin as he watches Jihoon wipe away an imaginary tear from the corner of his eyes. 

 

“I didn’t do anything.” Woojin holds his head high and purses his lips, shaking his head from side to side in mock innocence. 

 

“Just start the video, you fool.” Jihoon groans, but there’s no malice in his voice, smile still at his lips. 

 

And start the video, Woojin does, mouth moving faster than his head as he throws caution to the wind and zooms through the introduction, all jazz hands and silly dances.

 

“This is a question from user jessunnie88!” Woojin reads from his phone. “What do you like the most about each other?” 

 

Jihoon stares at Woojin for a long time, chin resting on his clasped hands, and Woojin fights the instinct to blush under his gaze. “He has my favorite yogurt in his fridge at all times.” He finally says, and Woojin doesn’t miss the softness in his voice. Woojin wouldn’t miss it for the world. “He’s considerate and takes care of me well.” 

 

Woojin smiles at the answer, but he does nothing to voice his opinion on it. He snorts, thinking back on he and Jihoon’s “talk” about Woojin’s past sugar daddies. Woojin shrugs his shoulders up and down, “I’m broke, so I like his bank account.” 

 

As a joke, and to play around with Jihoon, Woojin tacks on, “If anyone is looking for a sugar baby, I’m available.” 

 

Jihoon’s eye twitches. 

 

“Is it a habit to announce how broke you are?” 

 

Woojin and Jihoon fall into their pre-are-we-dating routine, a comfortable air coming over them as they go back and forth answering subscribers’ questions, fooling around and bouncing off of each other’s energy. 

 

If Woojin could just ignore the nagging voice in his head (and the tightening of his heart), he’d say it was as if nothing had changed at all, and they were back to where they were a month ago. 

Above all, maybe  _ this _ is what confuses Woojin the most. 

 

The contradictory scenes that play before Woojin’s eyes—the intimate kiss they shared at midnight; the heat of Jihoon’s stare on his naked back; the cozy breakfast they had the morning after his birthday; the pounding of his heart when Jihoon comes a little too close; the tension and questions that followed after Jihoon left; the ease of falling back into place as if nothing had happened—are like a book that is missing pages; lapses in understanding and holes that Woojin can only fill with his own imagination. 

 

One moment it’s almost as though Jihoon might actually like him, but in the following minute, he’s treating him just the same as he always has, like a friend, and nothing but a friend.

 

One moment Woojin thinks he’s going to suffocate, throat tight and tongue heavy in his mouth, but in the following minute, he’s doubled over in laughter, free from the anxieties that paint dark circles under his eyes, making inside jokes and playing around with Jihoon like kids.

 

Nothing is black and white when it comes to Jihoon, and though Woojin has always loved the shades of gray that make up Park Jihoon, for once, he just wants a clear yes or no.  

 

“User daehwinnie asks… ” Jihoon’s eyes widen a fraction, and he swallows thickly with a choked laugh. “Why don’t you kiss on camera, you cowards?”  

 

Woojin laughs it off, but his own heart stutters at the question. He snorts, “That’s gay.” 

 

In an act of blind courage (or just a sudden urge to kiss Jihoon), Woojin whips his head to Jihoon’s direction and plants a quick kiss on Jihoon’s cheek. Woojin beats the crushing wave of embarrassment and immediately winks at the camera, not sparing Jihoon a single glance as he focuses his eyes on his phone. 

 

“User justwoojins99 wants to know what kind of skinship we like to do!” Woojin chirps as he looks at Jihoon through the camera, pride painting a grin on his lips when he finds the older’s face blossoming like a flower in spring, flushed pink. A shit eating grin plays on Woojin’s lips, “Since he’s blushing so much, I’d say Jihoon likes my kisses.”

 

“Don’t be so full of yourself.” Jihoon bites back despite the rosy blush raging on his skin. Turning to the camera, he flashes a pretty smile that drips with evil intent. “Woojin is a sucker for affection. Hold his hand and he’ll just melt into a puddle of goo.”   

 

“Should we test that theory?” Woojin asks, challenging Jihoon with an innocent smile as he waves his hand in the air, waggling his fingers in front of the camera. 

 

Jihoon glares at him for a millisecond before taking a hold of his hand and holding it hostage in his lap. 

 

Woojin doesn’t complain, only hiding a smile and looking back at the camera. “Too easy.” 

 

Jihoon rolls his eyes, but Woojin knows how Jihoon is, and he doesn’t miss the small smile playing on Jihoon’s lips too. 

 

He looks over Jihoon’s shoulder as the older scrolls through questions until he lands on one that he finds interesting, reading it out loud, “User chamhwink asks do you like the changes in your dynamics when you became boyfriends?”

 

Woojin worries at his lip, focus falling for a moment as he takes in the question, eyes staring at the words until they become blobs of black against white. 

 

The changes. 

 

Woojin’s thoughts and concerns come flying to the front of his mind like a swarm of hornets, clouding his eyes with images of Jihoon; Jihoon in a peaceful sleep in his bed, Jihoon laughing at something stupid that Woojin said, Jihoon eating cereal half awake on his kitchen counter, the warmth of Jihoon’s skin under his hand. 

 

_ What has changed?  _

 

Aren’t they still the same? 

 

They kiss sometimes, they hold hands more, they go on “dates, but nothing has actually changed, has it? 

 

Jihoon stares at him, a questioning look in his eyes, and Woojin stares back, wondering what his answer would be to the questions dancing on the tip of Jihoon’s tongue.

 

Nothing but his feelings have changed. 

 

Woojin looks away. 

 

Jihoon fills the silence. “Pass.” 

 

Woojin swallows around the lump in his throat when Jihoon holds his hand just a tiny bit tighter. 

 

“User 4ever2park asks who does Max like better?” Woojin forces a confident grin as he changes the topic, ignoring the racing of his heart and the heavy dread that pools at the bottom of his stomach. Woojin doesn’t dare to look at Jihoon in the eye, staring stubbornly into the camera, only catching a glimpse of Jihoon in the viewfinder—he pretends he doesn’t see how Jihoon’s face falls, eyes losing a little bit of light—, and he chirps, “Max stays with me, so isn’t the answer obvious?” 

 

Jihoon is quick to catch onto Woojin’s cues, though, and he takes the bait. “Max is  _ my _ son!”

 

“He’s  _ ours _ ,” Woojin shrugs and lifts Max, who had lounged in his lap for the entirety of the video, up into the camera’s view, “but I have full custody of him.”  

  
  


**_[ NIGHT OF THUNDERSTORM ]_ **

  
  


“Fuck this,” Woojin mumbles to himself, falling face first onto his bed. Curling up into a little ball, he recounts all the things that have happened to him this past month. As if on cue, Max hops up onto his bed and whimpers, wiggling into the small gap between Woojin’s arms. 

 

“Hey buddy,” Woojin half-heartedly laughs, scratching behind the puppy’s ears. Max, sensing that Woojin was upset, licks his face in response, trying to get rid of the tears that started falling down his owner’s face.

 

Woojin has no idea why the fuck he’s crying. First and foremost, he’s  _ never _ cried over something like this, and second of all, it wasn’t even anything  _ serious _ —what he actually  _ does _ consider serious though, Woojin doesn’t know yet.

 

It wasn’t serious though, excluding the fact that he made himself look like a fool in front of Jihoon, and that he might have created a massive amount of awkward tension, driving a big wedge in their friendship from here on out, and that he may be irrevocably in love with someone who—in his humble opinion—doesn’t love him back.

 

He thinks about all of the moments they have shared up to this point. The way Jihoon’s eyes light up when they eat fried chicken together, the way his cheeks turned pink when Woojin took a hold of his hand when they walked through the park, and the way Jihoon mumbled “happy birthday, love.”—they all come flooding Woojin’s mind in crashing waves. 

 

Jihoon is always running through Woojin’s mind, and it’s exhausting for Woojin—he wonders if Jihoon is exhausted too. 

 

Woojin harshly wipes his tears away, praying to some higher god to just make it stop. 

 

He was more frustrated than anything, frustrated with himself, with his heart— _ why  _ did his feelings have to change?  _ Why  _ did they have to do this fake boyfriend challenge? And of all people,  _ why  _ did he have to fall in love with his best friend? 

 

Max continued to worriedly nudge his head against Woojin’s hand, small whimpers coming from the puppy as he senses Woojin’s frustration, and Woojin forces a choked chuckle, petting the puppy affectionately and gathering it in his arms. 

 

Jihoon wasn’t around, so this would have to do. 

 

He falls into a dreamless sleep, praying to go back to the old times when his friendship with Jihoon was simple, without all of the strings attached. 

  
  


Woojin startles at the incessant ringing of his phone. Woojin groggily rolled over, blindly stretching a hand out to his nightstand for his phone. Through his bleary vision, he groans at the 12:14 AM that stares back at him, annoyance flaring when the caller ID reads Lee Daehwi.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Woojin hyung?” Daehwi asks on the other side of the line, voice laced with worry. “Are you up?” 

 

Woojin almost growls, still annoyed as he rubs his eyes, “Now I am.”

 

“Look, I’m sorry. I’m exhausted too, but do you see what’s outside your window right now?”

 

Woojin slowly got up to walk across the room to his window, looking outside, eyes widening at the water streaming down his windowpane. A thunderstorm painted the sky black, and Woojin has to take a moment to take it all in—the dark clouds, the blue bolts of lightning, and most importantly, the loud, booming thunder. 

 

So this is why Daehwi was calling him.

 

Woojin runs a hand through his hair, worry stabbing at his gut. “Fuck.”

 

“I know,” Daehwi sighed, sounding just as tired as Woojin does. “I know how you’re feeling, but for me… can you check up on him? He isn’t answering my messages and he won’t pick up his phone.”

 

At the speed of light, Woojin shoves a hoodie over his pajama shirt, racing through his kitchen to get a couple of things he knows will comfort Jihoon. Max follows him, curious as to why he was suddenly up and about. 

 

Woojin tosses his backpack over his shoulders and grabs his car keys off of the counter before hanging up. “I’ll be there soon.”

  
  


Park Jihoon is fearless, but if there’s one thing he will cower to, it’s the crack of lightning and the rolling of thunder. He’s known this since he was little—he would hide under his bed, squeeze his eyes all the way shut, and pray that the loud booming and flashes of light would stop.

 

He can usually handle them, now older and stronger, but tonight was monstrous. 

 

Jihoon holds back tears, trying to control his breathing in a desperate attempt to calm down, but nothing was working.

 

Flashes of lightning made their way through Jihoon’s bedroom window, causing him to jump in fright. The shadows in Jihoon’s room seemed to tease him, mocking him as they became larger and larger with each crack of lightning. 

 

_ You’re all alone,  _ they cackled,  _ there’s nobody here to save you. What’ll you do now? _

 

Jihoon shakes his head, ignoring his thoughts as another  **boom** of thunder bellowed from his window. Whimpering in fright, he cover his ears, shaking from head to toe.

 

The storm continued to rage on as Jihoon began to rock back and forth, the shadows in his room taunting him, mocking him at his lowest state. Hot tears flowed down his face, uncontrollable as they wet his hands. 

 

Jihoon has always hated the feeling of being alone in the big, ugly world with nobody by his side, and he hated that thunderstorms always had a way of making him feel truly and completely alone—  

 

“Jihoon?”

 

Head whipping to the sound, Jihoon looked up to see none other than Park Woojin standing in his doorway, drenched and panting, catching his breath. 

 

As soon as he noticed Jihoon’s state, Woojin rushed over, enveloping the other in a warm hug.

 

“Shhh, it’s okay. I’m here now,” Woojin whispered, leaning Jihoon’s head onto his shoulders. “I’m here. You don’t have to be afraid.”

 

He continued to repeat these words, rubbing small circles into Jihoon’s back as Jihoon clung onto him. Jihoon continued to sob into his shoulder, and Woojin held onto him tighter, whispering loving words into his ears.

 

“I’m not going anywhere, Jihoon. I’m right here.” Woojin whispered softly, “It’s okay. You aren’t alone.”

 

Tears pool again in Jihoon’s eyes, but for a completely different reason.

 

A long as Woojin walks this earth, Jihoon will never be alone, and that makes all the difference in the world.

 

Woojin stays by Jihoon’s side until the storm fades and the shadows shrink back in defeat. Still concerned about Jihoon though, Woojin reaches into his backpack, gently wrapping the other in one of his hoodies.

 

“You looked a little cold,” Woojin grins. “And I know how much you like this one. It looks cute on you.”

 

Rummaging some more through what he brought, he pulled out a few snacks and his Nintendo Switch. 

 

“I didn’t know what else to bring,” he apologized, scratching the back of his head. “I just kind of went with what I thought you’d want. If there’s anything else, I can run over to the store real quick.”

 

“How did you know? Jihoon whispered. “About the thunder?” 

 

Woojin sighed. “I pay attention to you a lot more than you think.” He admits with a shrug. “Remember two years ago when we went on that camping trip with the guys? I noticed you shaking when it started raining, so I had a feeling.”

 

Those words stuck to Jihoon, making his cheeks flush once again. Woojin didn’t notice, too embarrassed himself.

 

“Well, is there anything else you need?” Woojin asked, worry still evident in his voice. Jihoon was about to shake his head, not one to burden someone else, but this was Woojin, and he stopped himself. Actually, there may be one thing that he might need. He gently tugged at Woojin’s hoodie with a selfish yet earnest request.

 

“Can you stay the night?”

 

Woojin blinks, taking a few moments to process what Jihoon asked of him. Jihoon could see the conflict that was swimming in his eyes.

 

“I feel safer with you around,” Jihoon continued, looking down and picking at his—Woojin’s—hoodie. “And it’s still raining…”

 

Woojin doesn’t hesitate longer.

 

“Yeah, okay. I don’t mind.”

 

The two of them are silent as they climb into Jihoon’s bed. Woojin pulls the covers over them, and surprisingly enough, Jihoon is the one who takes the initiative, snuggling into Woojin’s chest. Woojin gently snakes an arm protectively around Jihoon’s hips and brings Jihoon closer, the two of them face to face with each other. 

 

“Thank you,” Jihoon whispered first, voice gentle and barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what I’d be doing if you didn’t come.”

 

“It’s the least I could do,” Woojin smiles, placing a soft kiss on his forehead. 

 

“And Woojin?”

 

Woojin grunts.

 

Jihoon stares into Woojin’s eyes. “I’m sorry for not answering your text.”

 

Woojin smiles, and Jihoon believes him when the younger says “Don’t worry about it.”

 

The rain softly knocks against the window, soothing them both into a rhythmic lull before falling asleep. 

 

But before he does, Jihoon whispers under his breath.

 

“It’s not an act.”

  
  


“But we can’t love each other,” Jihoon mumbles, placing another soft kiss on Woojin’s cheek. “We just aren’t meant to be together… You have someone else, right?”

 

He surrenders to unconsciousness.

  
  


Woojin startles after, swearing Jihoon had said something, but not catching it.  

 

“What?”

  
  


**_[ MORNING AFTER ]_ **

  
  


Woojin wakes up to the incessant sound of the rain tapping on the window. He forgets where he is for a split second until he turns to his right, finding none other than Park Jihoon in a peaceful sleep. Jihoon’s breaths stutter as he murmurs profanities under his breath in his sleep, his hair sticking out in all directions, hands bunched in Woojin’s pajama shirt.   
  
Woojin thinks Jihoon is undoubtedly attractive in any way, but he thinks he looks best this way—wearing his hoodie. He takes a mental note to casually “forget” it at Jihoon’s place for him to keep.    
  
Peeling Jihoon off of him, he chuckles at Jihoon’s low whine at the loss of warmth, and heads to the kitchen to make him breakfast.   
  
Is it weird that he knows exactly where everything is? The question pesters Woojin as he pulls out a sack of flour and sugar and starts digging inside the fridge for some milk and eggs. He knows that Jihoon has a soft spot for chocolate chip pancakes, so it’s a good thing he perfected how to make them a few months ago.   
  
As soon as he’s perfected the batter, he’s interrupted by the front door suddenly opening. Curious to see who it was, he comes out and sees Daehwi standing his umbrella against Jihoon’s shoe rack. For a moment he’s confused to see Daehwi, but he figures that younger had found Jihoon’s spare key and let himself in.   
  
Daehwi takes one look at Woojin’s apron, and arches an eyebrow.   
  
“Well.” Daehwi snorts. “This isn’t what I was expecting.”   
  
“Don’t think anything of it,” Woojin hisses, dismissing his remark with a wave of his hand. “I’m just making him breakfast.”   
  
Daehwi turns his chin in the direction of Jihoon’s room, “Is he still asleep?”   
  
“Yeah.”   
  
Daehwi sighs. “I’m hungry. Make me some of your famous chocolate chip pancakes, please.”   
  
  
  
“I came to talk to Jihoon hyung, but how are  _ you _ feeling?” Daehwi cautiously asks, perched on the counter as Woojin moves around the kitchen. Woojin sighs as he pours the batter onto the hot griddle who replied with a satisfying hiss.   
  
“Honestly?” Woojin grunts, pouting his lips. “My legs started running on their own. and I think I just panicked. I wanted to make sure he was okay.”   
  
“And was he?”   
  
“No,” Woojin admits, staring at the pancake in the pan. “He was a mess by the time I got here. He was rocking back and forth and crying, and I don’t know.”   
  
Daehwi probes. “You don’t know?”   
  
“I just,” Woojin says slowly, trying to find the right words to use. “I saw him like that, and I instantly just wanted to protect him from everything. He looked so small and vulnerable, and scared out of his mind, and I just never want to see him like that again.”   
  
He flips the pancake.   
  
“You’re in love, Woojin hyung.”   
  
“I know I am,” Woojin quickly shoots back without thinking, frowning. It wasn’t a question at this point, it was just fact. “The only thing bugging me is this secret admirer thing.”   
  
“You’re still on the search for them?” Daehwi asks, surprised.   
  
“I want to find them,” Woojin says back, now passing Daehwi a plate of pancakes. “But now that I have Jihoon, I don’t think I do anymore.”   
  
Daehwi stares at his oblivious friend, but he chooses not to say more, and he sighs. Taking a forkful of Woojin’s pancakes, he watches the boy make Jihoon a stack, the older making sure to add extra chocolate chips.    
  
“I have to leave soon,” Woojin says. “If I stay here any longer, I might not have the heart to go. It just hurts too much.”   
  
“Hyung…”   
  
“It is what it is, Hwi,” Woojin cuts him off with a blank stare. “I don’t want to risk our friendship over some dumb feelings of mine. Jihoon is the last thing I want to lose. I’d rather just see him happy with someone else.”   
  
Daehwi watches Woojin clean the dishes in silence, and right after, the older disappears into Jihoon’s bedroom. When he got inside, Jihoon was still asleep. Woojin cracked a smile at the sight, taking the liberty to carefully place a kiss onto his forehead.   
  
Casting one last long glance at him, Woojin grabs his backpack and carefully closes the door.

  
Daehwi places a hand on his shoulder, a warm smile on his lips. “I’ll make sure he’s okay, hyung. Go home and get some rest.”   
  
“Thanks, Hwi. Tell him I’ll text him later, okay?” Woojin thanks Daehwi with a hug. “He can keep the hoodie.”   
  
“I will.”   
  
And with that, Woojin shoved his hood on and walked outside into the rain.    
  
  
  
When Jihoon woke up, the other side of his bed was cold and empty, any traces of warmth long gone. Last night’s events came crashing down on him. The thunder, the shadows, the lightning. Woojin hugging him, Woojin whispering that everything would be alright, and Woojin staying the night with him.   
_  
_ _ Woojin. _   
  
He panicked at Woojin’s disappearance before the smell of chocolate chip pancakes came wafting into the room. Jihoon has a soft spot for the breakfast food, and Woojin always used it to his advantage. Jihoon got up from his bed to search for him in the kitchen, until the voices outside stopped him, and he hid behind the door trying to listen to what they were saying.   
  
“The only thing bugging me is the secret admirer thing,” he heard Woojin sigh.    
  
The mentioning of the secret admirer made Jihoon’s heart drop.    
  
“You’re still on the search for them?” he heard Daehwi ask.   
  
“I want to find them.”   
  
Jihoon didn’t bother to listen in on the rest of Woojin and Daehwi’s conversation; he already got the message. 

 

He returned to bed and wrapped himself in his blankets.   
  
Is this what heartbreak felt like?    
  
Jihoon soon made out the sound of footsteps padding to his door, and he quickly shut his eyes, pretending to be asleep. He heard Woojin moving around the room to grab his things, pausing to make sure that Jihoon was still asleep, and finally Woojin closed the door.   
  
“... him I’ll text him later, okay?” Woojin’s voice floated through the door. “He can keep the hoodie.”   
  
“I will.”   
  
He heard his front door open and then close, signaling that Woojin had left. Chancing a glance out of his window, Jihoon watched Woojin run to avoid the rain as much as he could before getting into his car and driving off. As soon as he saw Woojin’s car snake out of his driveway, he cracked open his door to see a surprised Daehwi staring back at him.   
  
“Jihoon hyung, you’re up?” Daehwi asked, startled. And a thought seemed to dawn on Daehwi. “How much did you—“   
  
“Enough,” Jihoon replied, flashing a fake smile at his concerned friend. Noticing the stack of pancakes Woojin had made for him, Jihoon almost laughed at how they almost toppled off balance. “I heard what I needed to hear.”

  
  


**_[ WOOJIN GETS SICK ]_ **

  
  


Pot of soup buckled in the passenger’s side, Jihoon sighs as he slides into the driver’s side.    
  
Was he really going to do this?    
  
He considers his options—this could go either way. The first, (which Jihoon would want), is Woojin feeling the same. The second (which he doesn’t want), is Woojin banking him right into the friendzone, and their friendship going down the drain.   
  
Was he really ready to risk it?   
  
He contemplated turning back, but his limbs moved on their own. His hand stayed firmly on the wheel, on the way to Woojin’s house, and he almost laughs at how he knows how to get there without looking at the street names, the directions etched into the side of his heart.   
  
“Here goes nothing,” he mumbles, turning on the radio.

  
  


_ A serious car crash just occurred on the I-15… _ the reporter on Woojin’s television said.  _ About three people injured, four rushed to the emergency room… _ _  
_   
Woojin flips through channels, hacking his lungs out as he watched the live news.    
  
Wasn’t the I-15 the route Jihoon always uses?    
  
Woojin shakes his head. 

 

He’s probably okay—Jihoon is most likely at his house napping or playing video games. As Woojin reached for the tissue box, his phone rang. It was Minhyun again, but this time, he was calling him.   
  
“Woojin, are you sure nobody has come to your house yet?” Minhyun’s voice asked on the other side of the line, panic evident in his voice.   
  
“I told you, no,” Woojin replied, blowing his nose. Woojin groans as he coughs again. “Why do you keep asking?”   
  
“Well because—“   
  
_ Ding dong! _   
  
Woojin raises an eyebrow at the news that he had a visitor. He wasn’t expecting anyone, so who could it have been?   
  
“Hold on,” Woojin grunts into the phone as he hops up from the couch. “Someone’s at my door.”   
  
“Let me know who it is.”   
  
Woojin rolled his eyes at Minhyun’s anxious behavior. Swinging the door open, his jaw almost dropped, and his heart sank. He silently gaped at the person standing outside.    
  
“Woojin? Hello?” Minhyun asked, “Woojin? Are you still there?”   
  
It was Jihoon.    
  
To be quite honest, the first few seconds was just the two of them standing outside of Woojin’s door. They haven’t met face to face since the thunderstorm and when Woojin stayed the night. Jihoon was still wearing his hoodie; his hair was a mess, his cheeks flushed and pink, and there was a certain look of fear in his eyes that Woojin couldn’t explain. He didn’t know if he should be ecstatic that Jihoon was standing right in front of him, or if he should be dreading it.    
  
“Can I come in?”   
  
Jihoon’s voice brought Woojin out of his daze, and he coughed, opening the door a little wider.    
  
“Yeah.”   
  
The air was charged with something electric, and adrenaline flowed through Woojin’s body. 

 

He first closed the door, then Woojin watches Jihoon set down this pot thing on his counter. Jihoon is quiet for a few seconds, not saying anything as he looks up at Woojin, before immediately taking him into a hug. 

 

Out of shock, Woojin’s hold on his blanket slackens and it falls to the ground as he snakes his hands around Jihoon’s waist. They stay silent in the embrace for a moment before Jihoon looks back up to him.   
  
“Jihoon?” Woojin asks tentatively, brows drawn together. “Is everything alright?”   
  
“I missed you,” Jihoon admits, face burning, unable to look at Woojin in the eye. “I missed this.”   
  
The way Jihoon says it makes Woojin’s mouth go dry; it’s as if Jihoon is stepping on thin ice, trying to avoid making everything crack and break under his weight. The tone in his voice is firm yet quiet and doubtful, but a small note of regret fills his words. Woojin takes a moment to respond, but he holds Jihoon closer.   
  
“I’m right here,” Woojin whispers with a small smile. “I always have been, and I will always be here. With you. Or for you. Doesn’t matter. I’d walk the Earth with you until the day I die.”   
  
It’s only then that Jihoon finally looks back at him. They’re so close that Woojin can smell his strawberry shampoo and see the small golden flecks in Jihoon’s eyes that he always adored. Woojin has completely forgotten about everything besides the boy who was currently in his arms.   
  
“I just don’t want to lose you,” Jihoon continues, voice quiet. “Or lose us. I just—I’m so scared of change. I’m scared of the unknown.”   
  
“I’ll be there with you the entire way,” Woojin blurted out without hesitation. “Whatever you’re scared of, I promise to protect you from it.”   
  
They’re silent for a while, and it’s in a sudden moment of acute awareness that Woojin realizes their foreheads are touching and their lips are barely millimeters apart. The world grows quiet, holding its breath, and Jihoon mumbles a command.   
  
“Kiss me.”   
  
And Woojin does, closing the gap between them in one swooping motion.   
  
  
Jihoon doesn’t know what the fuck they’re doing. All he knows is that he and Woojin are kissing, and it takes a second for his mind to process that.   
  
Woojin tastes like spearmint gum, the flavor spreading inside Jihoon’s mouth as the two of them collide. They stumble around Woojin’s living room, with Woojin using one hand to firmly grip Jihoon to prevent him from falling before they both land on the couch. These kisses aren’t like the soft and tender ones they used to have; they have more of a feeling of desperation, as if they’re never going to get this moment back again. 

 

But it all ceases when Jihoon tugs away.   
  
“I forgot about Jisung’s soup.”   
  
He nudges his head in the direction of the metal pot which was still untouched on Woojin’s countertop.   
  
“Forget about it,” Woojin breathes. “You’re all I want right now.”    
  
The option of kissing Woojin is very, very tempting, and Jihoon almost screams at himself for denying it. Gently letting go off him, Jihoon dusts his pants off, remembering why he came in the first place.    
  
“You’re sick, Woojin,” Jihoon frowns. “And it’s because of me. So I’m going to take care of you until you feel better.”   
  
“You shared mouth to mouth contact with me over twenty times,” Woojin shot back, an eyebrow raised. “You’ll get sick soon.”   
  
Jihoon shrugs. “It was worth it.”   
  
“Friends can kiss each other, right?”   
  
“Yeah. It’s totally normal.”   
  
Mentally, they both screamed at themselves. 

 

This is not what they wanted to say, so why the fuck do they keep saying it?   
  
  
Jihoon takes the liberty of monopolizing Woojin’s kitchen. As he starts to heat up Jisung’s chicken noodle soup, he figured that Woojin should eat more than that, and starts to make more food. Throwing flour and the other random ingredients that he found lying around, he started getting to work. This whole time, Woojin refused to let go of him, resting his head on Jihoon’s shoulder and backhugging him.   
  
“Woojin, I can’t crack these eggs properly if you’re breathing your diseases onto me.”   
  
“I don’t care if there’s eggshells in my food. I’m not moving.”   
  
Jihoon doesn’t complain. Soon enough, they’re both drinking Jisung’s soup (which, they’re surprised, because vegan food actually tasted good for once), and Jihoon decides to finally get the guts to ask Woojin.   
  
“So,” he starts, “Any luck with your secret admirer?”   
  
Woojin finishes draining his bowl before looking up, and sighs.   
  
“Uh, not really.”    
  
Jihoon’s off to a good start.    
  
“Aw, really?” He frowns, “I’m sorry. I know how badly you wanted to find out who they are.”   
  
Woojin shrugs. “Not anymore.”   
  
“What changed?”   
  
Woojin awkwardly looks down at his empty bowl.   
  
“Well, I wanted to find them, but now that I have you, I don’t think anyone else can compare in the slightest.”   
  
Jihoon felt his heart almost bursting. He compelled himself to ask an even riskier question.   
  
“So, theoretically, what if I was your secret admirer?”   
  
Woojin laughs. “Yeah. Imagine that.”   
  
“No, really,” Jihoon insists, “What if it was me, and Daehwi just never told you?”   
  
“Jihoon, it’s a little late for April Fool’s.”   
  
“I’m being dead serious.”   
  
Now it’s quiet. Jihoon sees the clockwork inside of Woojin’s brain moving, and can see that Woojin is processing what he had just said.    
  
“Seriously?”   
  
“Yes,” Jihoon sighed, “I was your secret admirer. Sorry if you were disappointed.”   
  
“I’m not disappointed,” Woojin quickly interrupts, shaking his head. “It makes things easier for me.”   
  
“How so?”   
  
_ Because now I don’t have to reject someone and tell them that I’m in love with you, _ Woojin’s inner voice says.   
  
“I just don’t have to keep searching when the person I want is in front of me.”

 

They don’t really drop the secret admirer subject. At least not in a sense that they know they’ll never bring it up again. But Woojin goes into another coughing fit and Jihoon gets up to get him a glass of water, conversation and admirers momentarily forgotten. 

It’s not until later, when Jihoon has coaxed him back onto the couch and draped a blanket over him, that Woojin decides to look at him. Really  _ look _ at him. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” He asks softly. “About you being the admirer?”

Jihoon meets his eyes, and Woojin drowns. 

“I didn’t actually know it was me. Does that make sense? All this time I thought they meant someone else. I don’t know.”

“I see,” Woojin gives back, heart fluttering but his chest aching, and that’s that.

With Jihoon slowly but surely starting to inch closer, snuggling into him, carefully taking Woojin’s hand and caressing his palm, Woojin finds himself idly thinking of the words he’d said to Daehwi just a few days ago. It feels like it was another lifetime.  _ I don’t want to risk our friendship over over some dumb feelings of mine _ .

_ Jihoon is the last thing I want to lose. _

He feels, for lack of better word, awful. Not just because he’s sick, no. But because he has no idea where to go from here. What they are, how to define  _ this _ .

It’s a circle for him. The feelings, the want, the  _ need _ . So desperate to be in Jihoon’s arms, to bask in his love and warmth. To kiss him again. And at the same time, he’s scared. So god damn scared because he doesn’t know what’s next for them. So scared that all he wants to do is  _ run _ . 

He wants to tell Jihoon. Wants to tell him all of this is real to him, wants to believe that it’s all real for Jihoon as well. Part of him actually already does believe it. He wants to all the miscommunication prior—it’s okay to kiss friends, sure, but when Woojin kissed Jihoon he wanted him to know this wasn’t  _ just _ friendship. Not anymore. 

_ It’s not an act _ , Jihoon’s voice from barely last week rings loud and clear in his head.  _ It’s not an act. It’s not an act.  _

_ It’s not an act. _

But if it wasn’t, what happens in a few days, after their so-called ‘month of dating’ is over? Because after all, that is how it started, right? 

Does that mean that is where it should end, too?

_ But we can’t love each other.  _

He wants to ask, but he doubts Jihoon has answers as well. He wants to say  _ hey, let’s talk about this, let’s stop this and do it properly, if you want to _ .  _ Date me, fuck that challenge, I want you like this forever.  _

He wants to do all of that, but fear forces his mouth shut, shoves the words back into his throat. He doesn’t want to ruin this, not when they came so far. So instead, he keeps quiet as he lets Jihoon play with his fingers as he wonders how they even got here. 

One more week. And then what?

 

He stares at Jihoon, gaze piercing until the other looks up and meets his eyes. “What is it?” 

It’s a chance he could take. Now or never. Talk it out or remain in the shadows. But instead he leans down briefly and captures Jihoon’s lips with his own. 

“You’re sick,” Jihoon reminds him when he pulls back, even though he sounds like he’s not minding it all that much. 

“That I am,” Woojin answers, and his heart unravels at the sound of Jihoon’s breathy laugh. 

He doesn’t protest, instead he looks at Woojin and runs a hand through the younger’s hair, messing it up even more with a fond look in his eyes. 

It’s that exact gaze, that  _ look _ that makes Woojin decide. He needs to make the best of this, needs to enjoy this, needs to love Jihoon like he deserves to be loved while he still can. Because who knows what happens next, who knows if they’ll be friends or lovers or strangers by this time next week? Taking leaps is scary, and Woojin doesn’t think he is ready yet. Not like this. 

So if they really love each other but fear and fate keeps them apart in the end, he might as well enjoy it while it still lasts, no?

“Hey,” Jihoon starts after a while. He lets go of Woojin’s fingers to caress his cheeks instead. “Hey, Woojin, hey.” 

The other boy looks at him, opening his eyes after he realises he must have been drifting off. “Yeah?” 

“Hey, you seem really tired.” He puts one hand on his forehead. “You feel feverish too. Should I put you to bed? I have to walk Max in a bit, because I’m not letting you go out like this. Go rest up.” 

Jihoon’s heart shrinks at the low whine Woojin gives back in response, but he gets up and tugs at Woojin’s hands until he’s up and following him into the bedroom. 

He manhandles the younger into bed, even though Woojin is clearly too exhausted to really protest. Too warm, too comfortable in Jihoon’s presence. 

“Go to sleep,” Jihoon murmurs, leaning closer. “Max and I will be back in like an hour or less. I’ll fill his bowls and also come back with food you can heat up later, yeah? So sleep.” 

When he gets up to move away, a hand tugs at the back of his shirt. “Jihoon,” Woojin’s eyes are wide open suddenly. “Hoonie.” 

“Yeah?” He says. 

Woojin looks at him for a second, before promptly pulling him down for a kiss. It doesn’t last long—good, because Jihoon isn’t sure if he would have had the power to leave otherwise. “Sorry,” he chuckles, “I just wanted to do that again.” 

“You can. If you make me sick, return the favor and take care of me,” Jihoon finds himself saying, even though his mind is racing through his thoughts at lightning speed. 

“I always do. I always will,” Woojin replies. His moment of energy disappears as Jihoon notices his eyelids getting heavier. 

Jihoon, bold and brave and mostly  _ foolish _ , leans in again to peck his lips once more. “I will see you, yeah?” 

The other boy nods. “Yeah. Thank you,” he says, “I love you.” 

When Jihoon leaves with Max, the cold air of early winter caressing his cheeks, his chest feels tight. This wasn’t a confession, or at least it wasn’t how he planned it to go. But Woojin did kiss him like it mattered. Jihoon kissed him back like he’s always wanted to. It should be enough for now—a first step of many. One into darkness. 

So while he would say it still went more than alright, he’s not sure if he should feel hopeful or not.    
Jihoon gets back to Woojin’s in no time. With a now satisfied Max, Jihoon also took the time to pick up some more food for the both of them to eat. 

Hopefully Woojin’s in the mood for vanilla ice cream and fries.

He makes his way to Woojin’s room, where he sees his “boyfriend” still asleep. Jihoon presses a soft kiss to his forehead, and Woojin’s eyes quickly flutter awake.

“Oh my god, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Jihoon says, his eyes widening, “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Woojin whispered, pulling Jihoon down to his face. Their lips are nearly touching; Woojin’s breath fans his face as he speaks —

“But, if you’re going to kiss me, kiss me for real.”

And so Jihoon does. The bag of food is dropped and its contents tumble out, Max yips before leaving the room, and Jihoon and Woojin are one again. 

Woojin’s hands are entangled into Jihoon’s hair as the two of them keep kissing, not refusing to stop. It was if they were trying to communicate through it, from Jihoon’s soft kisses to Woojin’s passionate ones.

We can’t be together. We can’t fall in love just yet. But, I’ve fallen in love with you anyways.

Fuck this challenge. If you’re going to love me, love me with everything you have.

The message was clear through their action, but if only they could say it with words. 

After eating (more so, Woojin made Jihoon feed him), the two of them found themselves wound up again on Woojin’s couch. Woojin rested his head on Jihoon’s lap, the two of them quiet as Jihoon ran his fingers through Woojin’s hair. Occasionally, Jihoon would press his lips onto Woojin’s, almost as if he was reminding the other that he loved him. Almost. 

 

It was just something about the peace and quiet that felt so  _ right _ . 

 

“The challenge is almost over, huh?” Woojin said out loud quietly. Jihoon looked up, almost surprised at him bringing it up. It was true; it’s been almost a month since they announced they were “dating”—and at first, Jihoon was counting down the days, but now he dreads them.

 

“I guess it is.”

 

Woojin sits back up, turning to face Jihoon. Pulling him into a hug, Woojin’s got his arms protectively wrapped around him, leaning his head onto Jihoon’s right shoulder.

 

“What are we going to do about us?” Jihoon asks quietly, “We can’t keep running in circles.”

 

Woojin is silent for a few moments before tilting Jihoon’s chin, the two of them making eye contact. Woojin’s eyes are blurry like a window on a foggy day; his expression unreadable. 

 

“How do you really feel about me, Jihoon?”

 

Well, that took Jihoon by surprise. He tries to find words quickly to answer, but they come tumbling out in a mess of letters.

 

“I just. I don’t know. I just know that when I’m with you, I feel safe, and I just want to be with you.”

 

Woojin says nothing to this, and Jihoon panics to see that he seems even more pained than before.

 

“And I know we’re best friends, but it just doesn’t seem like enough. I just don’t feel like it’s enough,” Jihoon bravely continues, “I… don’t want to let  _ this  _ go… but I know this isn’t the time.”

 

Woojin still doesn’t answer, merely bringing Jihoon closer. His breathing hitches at Woojin’s deep gaze; it’s as if Woojin is memorizing his face and every detail like he’s never going to see it again. And Jihoon doesn’t know if that’s a good thing. 

 

“We’ll just have to make the most of what we have left, yeah?” Woojin whispers, his hand delicately on Jihoon’s cheek. 

 

And the two of them kiss; again. It’s not the first time, but the sparks are still there. Jihoon has lost count, but it just seems like it gets better each time. As the two of them collide, Woojin shuts his eyes tight, the way one does when they’re afraid they’re dreaming. 

 

He doesn’t need Woojin to tell him what he wants when he can  _ feel  _ it. He doesn’t care about anything else right now. All he wants to do is stay in this moment, pause time, and be like this forever. 

 

But if they can’t have forever, they’ll make their own.

 

**_[ WEEKEND ROAD TRIP ]_ **

  
  


Jihoon is on his bed, enjoying a bowl of ice cream when he gets Woojin’s texts and groans. It’s still the morning; and he’s not a morning person. But, because he’s just oh-so-whipped, he rolls out, slips on a pair of jeans and a beanie, and heads out the door. He’s surprised to see that he’s greeted with Woojin leaning on his car outside, scrolling through his phone.

 

And holy  _ fuck _ , does he look  _ good.  _ Woojin’s wearing a dark denim jacket that emphasizes his broad shoulders, ripped black jeans that hug nicely to his thighs, and his hair naturally windswept to the side. And dear  _ God,  _ Jihoon almost fainted.

 

Woojin looked up from his phone, grinning to see his “boyfriend” so flustered.

 

“Hey there.”

 

They greet each other with a chaste kiss before Woojin gently grabs his hand, leading them to his car.

 

“What exactly do you have planned for us?” Jihoon mused, to which Woojin smiled. 

 

“So, like I said before, we should make the most out of the time we have left,” he started. Jihoon raises his eyebrows questioningly.

 

“There’s a list of places that I’ve wanted us to go to.”

  
  
  


The ride was peaceful enough. The radio quietly played Woojin’s music as they continued driving. One hand on the wheel and the other casually gripping Jihoon’s thigh, Woojin made sure to lean in for a kiss at every red light (Jihoon wasn’t complaining). It was quiet for most of the trip, Woojin’s eyes steadily focused on the road ahead besides the occasional glances at his boyfriend next to him.

 

Something about them together just felt so  _ right.  _ They’ve forgotten about everything besides each other, cruising down the highway with no destination (as far as Jihoon knows) in mind. He pulls out the polaroid from Woojin’s backpack, snapping a quick picture of his boyfriend driving. 

 

“Hmm? What’s that for?” Woojin asked, glancing over.

 

“Well, they say pictures last longer,” Jihoon laughed, “And if I’m not going to get this moment ever again, I want to remember it forever.”

  
  


Several hours later, Woojin sighed and leaned his head back. He’s been driving since the morning nonstop, but was relieved that they finally made it. He turned to see Jihoon asleep, gently shaking him awake and kissing his cheek.

 

“Hey babe,” Woojin grinned, “We’re here.”

 

They work quickly. Woojin and Jihoon get a tent up and ready in no time, quickly unpacking all of the things Woojin had brought. The sun is now setting, and the stars are coming out into view. Jihoon’s in awe of the serene atmosphere and the beauty of it all, from the scent of the evergreen trees to the crickets that quietly chirped a symphony in the background. He watches as Woojin starts a fire, striking a match as the two of them watch the flame slowly grow. 

 

It’s kind of domestic. Woojin throws a pack of marshmallows, some chocolate bars, and graham crackers at him, and the two of them start making s’mores. Jihoon is unskilled, letting the marshmallow sit too long, and yelps when it catches on fire. Woojin quickly grabs the stick to make sure Jihoon isn’t going to get burned, and throws the now black chunk into the coals.

 

“You need to be careful!” Woojin scolds him, before sighing. He takes his perfectly toasted one to Jihoon, sliding it onto his graham cracker. “I’ll make another one.”

 

Woojin makes another one, watching it carefully before pulling it out of the fire. He blows on it a few times before prodding it in front of Jihoon’s mouth, “Here, open your mouth.”

 

“Are you trying to feed me?” Jihoon asks, almost flustered. Woojin’s ears turn red, but he doesn’t say anything, meaning yes. Jihoon thanks him and takes it, the overly sweet sensation exploding into his mouth, but doesn’t say otherwise. They’re mostly quiet for the rest of the time, eating through the whole pack of marshmallows. 

 

Afterwards, they settle into the tent. Jihoon is sitting in between Woojin’s legs, whose arms were wrapped protectively around him as they gazed at the night sky. It’s different than the city, where you couldn’t see a single thing, and the stars sparkled like diamonds.

 

“It’s beautiful.”

 

“Like you.”

 

They lean in for another kiss, but it’s soft and tender. Jihoon closes his eyes, trying to relish this moment and engrave it into his mind. 

 

It’s just something about the two of them together that makes Jihoon think it’s so magical. Maybe it’s the way him and Woojin fit together perfectly like a puzzle, or the way that he feels when they’re together, but either way, Jihoon knows that this isn’t something he wants to let go.

  
  
  


They wake up in the late hours of the morning, sparrows chirping freely in the air. A ray of light hits Woojin’s face, slowly taking him away from dreamland. Blinking a few times, he groggily doesn’t remember where he is exactly until he sees Jihoon, who's got his head on Woojin’s chest and hugging him like a teddy bear. Woojin chuckles at the sight, taking the liberty to brush Jihoon’s bangs out of his face again. 

 

A few minutes later, Jihoon stirs in his sleep before slowly waking up. He’s a bit dazed, his head hanging low as he shuffles, looking for his glasses. Jihoon has the worst case of bedhead and he’s wearing Woojin’s hoodie again, which makes the snaggletoothed boy almost swoon.

 

“Mornin’,” Jihoon says gruffly, placing a kiss on his cheek. Woojin obliged and returns the favor, and Jihoon groans and falls back onto the sleeping bag again.

 

“What time is it?”

 

“11:00 A.M,” Woojin tells him. Jihoon is quiet for a few moments before whining and dragging Woojin back down to the pillow with him. 

 

“Few more minutes,” he mumbles, “You’re warm.” 

 

Woojin laughs at this, taking off his hoodie and placing it underneath Jihoon’s head and wraps the boy in their shared blanket. Jihoon then again snuggles up next to Woojin, who by instinct pulls him in again. 

 

Maybe this was nice.

 

Soothed by the warmth of Woojin’s body pressed against his and the peace and quiet of the lakeside, Jihoon falls into a slow and heavy sleep.

 

The second time Jihoon wakes up, he’s alone in the tent, Woojin’s warmth gone along with the boy himself. Jihoon grumbles at the loss and rises from the cozy sleeping bag, pressing a palm to his eyes as he rubs the sleep away. By the position of the sun hanging high in the sky, Jihoon thinks it must be around noon or one in the afternoon, and the rumbling of his stomach signals that it’s past lunch time. 

 

Just as he’s about to go search for Woojin, the other pops his head back into the tent, wide grin stretching his lips when he sees Jihoon’s awake. “Good morning again, my love.” 

 

Jihoon pouts, making grabby hands at Woojin. “Where’d you go?” 

 

“Sorry babe, I wanted to make it back before you woke up. I got some food for us!” Woojin beams and dangles the bag of food in front of Jihoon’s face before slipping back into the tent. Jihoon immediately latches onto him, arms snaking around his middle. “It’s not much, but it was the closest place I could find.” 

 

“Did you sleep well?” Woojin asks, one hand stroking Jihoon’s nape slowly and the other tracing circles into the back of his palm. 

 

“That’s the most I’ve slept in a long time.” Jihoon hums, detaching himself from Woojin’s side to dig into the bag, awakening at the aroma of food. “I don’t think I’ve had more than six hours of sleep since the semester started.” 

 

Woojin’s brows draw together at that, grumbling at the older’s bad habits. “You should take care of yourself more, Jihoon.” 

 

“I have you for that, don’t I?” Jihoon shoves a fry into his mouth, looking at Woojin with fond eyes. He pats Woojin’s head; a habit he picked up on after years of his grandmother doing the same to him. Jihoon isn’t too big on words, so he’s always fallen back on actions, and he knows that Woojin is the same; that Woojin can understand what Jihoon doesn’t know how to say. “You always take care of me.”  

 

Something unreadable flashes in Woojin’s eyes, but it’s gone before Jihoon can try to pick it apart, and he decides to drop the subject altogether, not wanting to ruin what peace they created in this little tent. He takes out the containers in the bag and lays it out on the floor of the tent, nudging Woojin. “Eat. You must be hungry too.”

 

“I wonder who takes care of who.” Woojin snickers, but he doesn’t put up a fight when Jihoon holds a fry in front of his mouth, munching on it with a happy hum. 

 

“Do you know what my hoodie is made out of, Park Woojin?”  

 

“Don’t say it.” Woojin snorts, hands covering his ears. Woojin’s laugh is loud, and obnoxious, and Jihoon’s favorite sound. Jihoon thinks he could listen to it for the rest of his life.

 

Jihoon tugs Woojin in close and croons in his ear, ignoring Woojin’s complaints. “Boyfriend material.”

 

Park Jihoon hates hiking. He hates being in the outdoors for too long, he hates bugs and insects, but here he fond his whipped self happily walking a trail with his boyfriend.

 

_ Fuck being in love _ , Jihoon mutters in his mind as he swats a fly away,  _ If this wasn’t for Woojin, I wouldn’t be here right now. _

 

He ignores his inner dark thoughts as Woojin leads them while holding Jihoon’s hand down the trail. As soon as they got to a certain spot on the trail, Woojin stopped immediately, going through his backpack before lifting up a blindfold.

 

“Park Woojin,” Jihoon started, squinting his eyes, “ _ What  _ on Earth are you planning?”

 

“There’s a surprise up ahead,” Woojin explained, motioning to the trail above them, “Just put it on and trust me.”

 

“Oh my god, that was so  _ kinky.” _

 

_ “Shut up. _

 

Woojin knows that a Jihoon wins the award for the “Most Impatient Boyfriend on Earth.”

 

_ “ _ Are we there yet?” he complains, tugging at Woojin’s hand. Woojin looks back.

 

“No.”

 

“How much longer?”

 

“Not much.”

 

“That’s so vague,” Jihoon pouts, “I just want to take this blindfold off already.”

 

“It’ll be worth it,” Woojin reassures him, giving him a pat on the shoulder. 

 

They walk on for another ten minutes before Woojin finally stops again. He tugs at Jihoon’s hand.

 

“Okay, we’re here. You can take your blindfold off.”

 

Jihoon rips it off in excitement to see what Woojin has been trying to show him for so long, and his jaw drops.

 

It’s a large meadow of flowers. They aren’t your typical sunflowers or tulips though; they’re a deep violet with a white rim, and they danced in the wind. The meadow stretched for miles and miles as far as Jihoon could see. 

 

“It’s an aster field,” Woojin whispered, taking him into a back hug. The two of them stared out into the open, taking in the view. 

 

“In the language of flowers, asters mean ‘true love,’” he continues, “So I really wanted us to see it...together.”

 

“It’s beautiful, Woojin,” Jihoon says back, turning his head to face the other, “Thank you.”

 

The two of them are quiet once more before Jihoon connects their lips together, sharing one more sweet kiss. It’s one that Jihoon thought only happened in movies, with the sun shining, the birds chirping, and with the love of his life.

 

Jihoon doesn’t know if Woojin was his true love, but he’s pretty positive that he is. 

 

If only he saw Woojin’s eyes before they kissed; swimming in a sea of doubt. 

  
  


**_[ MOTEL ]_ **

  
  


Woojin has just tossed his towel onto the chair, done drying off his hair, when Jihoon notices him. “Park Woojin, come lay with me!” Jihoon whines, wrapping the blanket around him and rolling onto his stomach. 

 

Woojin snorts at the sight, fond smile playing on his lips despite how stupid Jihoon looks—because of how stupid (how cute) Jihoon looks. “Do you only boss me around? Is that your job?” 

 

“Yeah and it’s  _ your _ job to do what I say.” Jihoon shoots him a smug grin, motioning him over with his pointer finger. “Now come here! It’s cold.” 

 

Woojin’s body moves on instinct, taking him to Jihoon’s side. Jihoon’s eyes follows him, happy smile on his lips, knowing the hold he has over Woojin, and it’s only in that moment that Woojin comes to the crushing understanding that he’s completely (and understandably) whipped. 

 

The younger pouts and crosses his arms once he plops onto the bed, playing hard to get if only to save a tiny part of his dignity. 

 

Jihoon notices this immediately and whines more, looking up at Woojin with teasing eyes, a challenge clear in them. “You’re doing a lot of pouting and not a lot of cuddling.”

 

“You’re so annoying.” Woojin grumbles, but his actions don’t match his tone, gentle and warm as he hugs Jihoon in his arms, snaking his hands under the blanket and finding home around Jihoon’s hips. “It’s not cold at all.”

 

Jihoon’s hair is still wet from his shower, and it wets Woojin’s hoodie, making him twitch from the odd sensation, but he’s too comfortable and content with Jihoon in his arms to move. Jihoon looks up at him through long lashes, and Woojin’s breath hitches. 

 

The older shouldn’t glow so prettily under the ugly yellow motel light; he shouldn’t have eyes that glitter like the stars; he shouldn’t have lips that looks so, so  inviting, but he does. 

 

He shouldn’t be an oasis in the hot desert; he shouldn’t be a glimpse of the sun during the rainy season; he shouldn’t be a flame of warmth in the cold of the night, but he is. 

 

Park Jihoon is everything and so much more. 

 

Woojin falls, and he falls, and he takes his chances, and he makes the most of his time. 

 

He takes a hold of Jihoon’s chin and swoops down for a kiss, swiping at Jihoon’s bottom lip with his tongue, and taking, taking, taking all that Jihoon is willing to give him, mapping out Jihoon’s mouth and willing his mind to remember what this feels like. 

 

“I know.” is what Jihoon says when they break away from each other, foreheads touching and catching their breath together, sharing air, sharing the moment. “I just wanted you to hold me.”  

 

“This wasn’t supposed to happen, was it?” Woojin turns to face Jihoon, folding his hands under his head and tangling his legs with Jihoon’s. The younger’s eyes are wide and vulnerable; the saying goes that the eyes are the window to the soul, and now in the quiet of the motel room, Woojin allows his walls to fall and places his heart in Jihoon’s hands. Jihoon knows what he’s talking about—he could only be talking about the mess they got themselves into—, but Woojin is exhausted of running in circles and jumping through loopholes. He wants to know what Jihoon thinks—no more he-said-she-said, no more guessing games. “Us?”

 

Jihoon is silent for a minute, but he doesn’t look taken aback by the question, and Woojin can make out the conflict playing in the depths of Jihoon’s eyes. Woojin can almost guess what is going through Jihoon’s mind—he’s thought about it for so long, for days on end, through every scenario possible, and something tells him that Jihoon has done the same. 

 

It should be a yes or no question. It should be easy to answer. But nothing is a simple yes or no when it comes to things that  _ mean something _ . Nothing is easy when it comes to love—the action of loving comes like second nature to them, but actually understanding the weight of the motions, holding a hand or leaning in for a kiss? That’s rocket science. 

 

Woojin counts Jihoon’s breaths as he waits, and he unconsciously matches his own breathing with the rise and fall of Jihoon’s chest. 

 

Scenarios and what ifs are easy to think up. It’s easy to think about something and have your mind branch off into a million different directions; different actions and consequences; different endings. 

 

Words are harder to form. It’s harder to say what you want; to say what you actually feel; to say it like you mean it. Woojin knows that, he does, he knows very well how hard it can be to force words out, but he can’t stop his heart from falling when the most Jihoon can give him is a low mumble of “I don’t know.”

 

He’s not mad, no, he just wishes that of the millions things Jihoon could have thought to say, he would have chosen to say something else. It’s selfish, but Woojin just wishes that of the million scenarios that played in his mind, the one where Jihoon said what Woojin wanted to hear was reality. 

 

“I think we were supposed to go into the challenge as friends, and finish it as friends.” is what Woojin says, lips turned up in a soft smile. Woojin takes a hold of the older’s hand. “ _ This _ wasn’t supposed to happen.” 

 

_ Loving you wasn’t supposed to happen. _

 

“Maybe it was, though.” Jihoon says. He holds both of Woojin’s hands in his own, tracing circles into the back of his palm. Jihoon’s voice is soft, but it doesn’t waver, and it doesn’t allow Woojin to think; to map out the million different directions this could go; to doubt. 

 

Jihoon looks Woojin in the eye, and something about the way he does it, the love and comfort that he presses into Woojin’s hands with his fingers makes Woojin want to believe him. “Maybe it was always going to happen.” Jihoon goes on, and Woojin hangs onto his words like a lifeline. “Maybe one way or another, challenge or not, we would have fallen in love.” 

 

The older is going to say more, Woojin knows it, but he doesn’t know  _ what _ he’ll say. 

 

Of the million directions, of the million things Jihoon could say, Woojin prays that Jihoon says what he wants to hear. For once, Woojin begs, please. 

 

Jihoon places a hand on Woojin’s jaw, caressing his cheek with his thumb. He mumbles his words like a prayer to a higher god, a chant into the quiet of the night, a hope and a wish. “Or maybe we were in love all along.”

 

A slow grin plays in Woojin’s lips.

 

“Maybe.” Woojin covers Jihoon’s hand with his own, giving it a small squeeze. “It scares me.” he admits, watching the small changes in Jihoon’s eyes; watching as Jihoon weighs the situation in his head; watching as Jihoon watches him. “This scares me.”

 

“It scares me too.”   

  
  


**_[ RETURNING TO SEOUL ]_ **

  
  


As they speed down the highway, the city of Seoul looming in the distance, Woojin takes a moment to think about the past month, about the bridges they’ve crossed and the bridges they’ve burned.

He’s done a lot of it—a lot of feeling, a lot of thinking and being confused,  _ scared _ . A lot of thoughts and feelings and never facing the truth about them even when it is so clearly in front of him. He can kiss and hug Jihoon all he wants, but he can never say the words the way he wants to say them. He feels like he will never be able to do so. The final leap; too scary, too deep, too far.

The air around them is charged in a way that he can never get used to. He glances over at Jihoon, at how the early winter sun is shining on his face through the car window, at his chapped lips from the cold, at his focused gaze and his messy hair. 

He looks a bit sleepy, still, despite having been up for a while now. Granted, they hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep, having spent the night sharing kisses between them, talking to each other in hushed voices. Woojin still feels the way his chest tightens when he thinks about how they’d huddled together last night. It rings in his ears, still. The  _ Maybe we would have fallen in love _ . The  _ Maybe we already were, all along.  _

The fear that settled in his bones because of it. 

The  _ it scares me.  _ The  _ it scares me too. _

And then, after that, how he’d put his lips on Jihoon’s until neither of them could breathe anymore. Hands and legs entangled, hips fitting together perfectly. None of them had brought it up again after that, changing the topic to something else. They’d spoken about everything except the things that should be addressed. Talking about it would be like jumping into a pool of water, not knowing how deep it will be, not knowing if the stream will pull them back to the riverbanks safely or make them drown them instead.

He knows, rationally, that this has to end. Not even the challenge, but all of  _ this _ . They can’t continue being at a standstill. He should have just told Jihoon, should have swallowed his fears and gone for it when he could. He tries to say it with every kiss, every squeeze of his hand—but the words get stuck in his throat every time. 

And maybe it’s too late for that now.

Next to him, Jihoon sighs. Woojin snaps out of his thoughts and looks over quickly to see him pocket his phone with an irritated look in his eyes. “What’s up?” 

“Nothing. Seongwu annoying me about something trivial.” 

“I see,” he says, but neither of them offers anything else. 

 

They stop for a quick breakfast at a roadside cafe, eating in a comfortable, yet thick silence. 

When they’re heading back to the car, Jihoon skips up to match Woojin’s step, and brings their hands together. “I had fun,” he says. “I really did.”

Woojin nods, forcing his heart to calm down. He lets Jihoon bring their joined hands up to his mouth to press a kiss on his knuckles before turning his head and giving him a brief peck in return. He lets Jihoon dive into Woojin’s backpack, digging out the polaroid camera, lets him take goofy pictures as Woojin drives. 

“Ah, smog,” Jihoon laughs when they are nearing the first skyscrapers, around an hour later. “Nothing like a city with no fresh air at all.”

Woojin barks a laugh at that, lets Jihoon ramble and change the radio station. “Hey, have you listened to my playlist yet? The one I’ve made you for your birthday?” There’s something in his voice Woojin can’t define, and decides he can’t add  _ that _ to the pile as well.

“Oh, I haven’t yet. It’s been quite busy and, yeah, well.” He presses his lips shut for a moment, remembering something Jihoon said that day. You told me to listen to it whenever I feel down, right?”

In the corner of his eye, Jihoon nods.  

“I guess I’ve just been really happy, lately.”

A beat of silence. And then, “I will listen to it soon, though. My mood be damned.”

Jihoon swallows and nods, then reaches out to hold Woojin’s hand over the gear stick. “Listen to it when you have time, then. I put a lot of thought in it, you know.” 

“Of course,” Woojin answers, and ignores the voice in his head chanting  _ selfish, selfish, selfish _ as leans over to kiss him breathlessly at the next red light until the car behind them honks, telling them to just move the hell on already.

 

While Woojin, earlier today, sometimes felt like the ride home couldn’t go fast enough, now he’s feeling reluctant dropping Jihoon off at home. The older boy is dozing off in the passenger’s seat by now, the lack of sleep finally getting to him. Woojin tentatively reaches out and caresses the back of his hand, eyes still fixed on the road.

If he takes a few wrong turns on purpose, no one needs to know. 

It’s late afternoon by the time Woojin pulls up to the driveway of Jihoon’s apartment building. “Hey,” he nudges, “we are here.”

It takes Jihoon a minute too long to wake up as Woojin parks the car. Jihoon seems reluctant to get out as well, stretching and grunting for a bit longer than he probably needs to. 

In the end, though, he gets up and exits, grabbing his backpack from the backseat. When he walks to the door and notices Woojin isn’t trailing behind him, just leaning against his car door, he stops in his tracks to give the other boy a look. “You’re not coming?”

“Uh, I should actually go and pick up Max,” Woojin responds, scratching the back of his head. It’s not a lie, per say, but also it is. Max is just fine being taken care of by Seongwu and Minhyun at their home. Still, Woojin thinks he should go pick him up soon. 

_ And also…. _

“Oh. Yeah.” He must be going crazy, because Jihoon really does sound a little defeated, a little disappointed. Woojin pushes the thought away, just nods as he puts his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

Jihoon walks back to him then, until he is just a few, mere steps away from his boyfriend. “At least let me give you a proper goodbye, then.”

Woojin doesn’t think he will ever get enough of this; he’s hungry for it,  _ yearning  _ for the way Jihoon gently puts his backpack down again, cups his cheeks and leans in to softly kiss him. They don’t go further than that, don’t deepen their kiss. They’re in public, after all. 

And yes, Woojin wants to. He  _ wants _ to grab Jihoon by the hips and pull him closer and swipe his tongue across his lips and get lost in the galaxy that is Park Jihoon’s existence. He wants to do all of that while he still can.

But he knows if he does, that if he does this  _ now _ , he’ll never want to leave. That’s why he didn’t want to enter Jihoon’s apartment either. Because he knows, he knows that Jihoon captivates him, that he’s become home in his own way when he can’t be. Shouldn’t be, no matter how much he craves the feeling of Jihoon in his arms as they fall asleep at night. 

When Jihoon notices Woojin really has no plans of staying this time, he pulls away. There’s something in his eyes, something Jihoon seems he wants to  _ tell _ him but Woojin can’t decipher it. “I’ll see you… tomorrow?” he finally asks, hesitantly. 

Woojin gives him a genuine smile in return. “Of course,” he says. “And thank you for the trip.”

“No, thank  _ you _ ,” Jihoon counters. “I really lucked out with you.” 

For a second it looks like Jihoon wants to kiss him again, but Woojin beats him to it, gently cradling the older by the back of his head and bringing his lips to his forehead. He gives him a kiss there, and then lets Jihoon envelope him into a hug. 

They stand there for a minute, and Jihoon mumbles a ‘You’re sure you have to go?’ into the small space between them.

_ No. I really don’t. Max is just fine with Minhyun and Seongwu. But I have to do this, for myself and for the erratic beating of my heart.  _

“Yeah. But let’s go for lunch tomorrow or something, okay?” 

“Yep,” Jihoon pulls away and picks his backpack up again. He leans in to steal one more kiss as he turns. He’s smiling, as if he is warmth in the chilly November air. “See you, Woojin!”

“See you,” he says, and ignores the way his heart wants to leap out of his chest, through his throat and into the other boy’s hands. 

 

Even though Woojin claims he doesn’t want Max anymore, he finds himself ringing Minhyun and Seongwu’s doorbell two hours later. Minhyun opens the door, a little surprised, but lets him in nonetheless.

 

“Hey,” Woojin says, a little awkwardly, “I’m here for Max.”

 

“I know,” Minhyun sighed, opening the door a little further, “Here. Just come in. He’s waiting for you.”

 

Woojin walks in to see Seongwu cuddling with Max, cooing about how adorable the little dog was. As soon as he noticed Woojin standing in the doorway, Seongwu let Max go, and the dog ran back to its owner.

 

“Hey buddy,” Woojin smiles, kneeling down to pet the dog, “I hope you didn’t miss me too much.”

 

Max licks him in response, and Seongwu and Minhyun sit down next to Woojin.

 

“Dude, are you really willing to let Jihoon go like this? You know it doesn’t have to end, right?”

 

Minhyun is surprised to see tears finally fall down Woojin’s face. The boy is quiet as he wipes the tears from his eyes, and Max whimpers in concern. 

 

“It has to happen. We weren’t destined to be together, so I can’t create something that wasn’t meant to be.”

 

Jihoon is mid-meltdown, tears spilling from his eyes and bottom lip caught between his teeth, when his phone suddenly buzzes. 

 

At first, he thinks it must be Daehwi, the younger trying comfort him, but his eyes widen when he catches the caller ID of the person that’s calling him.

 

It was Woojin. 

 

Jihoon takes a couple of seconds to pick up, hands shaking and heart racing in his chest, and when he does, the line is silent, as if Woojin didn’t want to break the fragile silence. 

 

“Jihoon?” he hears Woojin say on the other side of the line. Jihoon holds his breath in as he hears Woojin sigh, the younger’s voice low as he tentatively continues, walking on eggshells with his words. 

 

“Are you…” Woojin starts, and Jihoon’s heart aches at the sound of his voice. “Are you okay?” 

 

Jihoon is quiet for another moment, contemplating, weighing the options, and he answers, a white lie rolling off the tip of his tongue. 

 

“Yeah.” Jihoon mumbles. “I’m okay.” 

 

Woojin doesn’t believe him though, and Jihoon wouldn’t believe himself. 

 

“ _ Please _ don’t cry,” Woojin begs, voice so soft and gentle that tears rise in Jihoon’s eyes again against his own will. “I don’t know what I’d do with myself.  _ Please. _ ” 

 

He can hear the pain in Woojin’s voice, as if it’s taking everything in him, every ounce of his will power, not to rush over back to Jihoon and whisper sweet nothings in his ear; to promise him a more simple tomorrow; to ask him to forget that  _ this _ ever had an end. But Jihoon dismisses those thoughts, the products of his own imagination and nothing more, clearing his throat to sound a little happier—to sound a little less broken. 

 

“I’m not crying,” Jihoon half-heartedly laughs. “Don’t worry, Woojin. I’m okay, really.”

 

“Are you sure?” 

 

Woojin’s question silences Jihoon again, the older’s heart dropping into the pit of his stomach. He knows Woojin just wants to comfort him, but Jihoon can’t allow that—can’t allow himself to fall harder, to complicate this more. 

 

“Yeah, I am.” 

 

It’s Woojin’s turn to go silent, and Jihoon listens to the younger’s breathing, to the faint sound of him swiping his tongue across his lips, and he hangs onto Woojin’s words like a lifeline when he starts again, 

 

“If you say so, Jihoon.” Woojin pauses, and Jihoon can just almost imagine him running a hand through his hair, fingers twisting the ends and rubbing his nape. “Do you still want to go to brunch or something? It’s on me.”

 

“Yeah,” Jihoon smiles, and he knows Woojin can hear it in his voice, so he smiles a little wider. “I’d like that.” 

 

“Okay, it’s a date then,” Woojin breathes out, sounding more calm, and Jihoon closes his eyes, focusing on the timber of Woojin’s voice and the sound of Max barking in the background.

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” Woojin mumbles. 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

“I love you, Park Jihoon,” Woojin reminds, and Jihoon’s breath hitches. “Never forget that.”

 

Jihoon bites his lip hard enough to draw blood, and he ignores the taste of iron on his tongue. “The feeling is mutual,” Jihoon says back, voice void of emotion, staring at the blank wall across the room. The words leave a bitter taste in his mouth. 

 

It sounds like a final farewell, and Jihoon hates it. 

 

The line goes dead as Woojin hangs up, and Jihoon flings his onto the couch and he lies down on the carpet, back flat and hands behind his head, mind a complete mess, full of thoughts and feelings that spiral out of his control. He doesn’t know what comes next,  _ if _ there’s even another step to take, or if he should lock his wandering thoughts away and erase them from his mind. 

 

But he can’t. He just knows he can’t. 

 

**_[ BRUNCH ]_ **

 

For the nth time that morning, Woojin holds a hand to his chest to soothe his racing heart. He’s had a bad feeling since his phone call with Jihoon last night—he’s had a bad feeling from the moment this damned challenge started, but Woojin is too prideful (or maybe to hopeful) to admit that all this was doomed from the start—, one that weighs heavy on his shoulders and makes his insides twist uncomfortably. He’s jumpy and hypersensitive of each and every sound he hears, eyes darting in the direction of the store front every time the bell above the door chimes, dreading the familiar sight of doe eyes and full lips. 

 

He doesn’t remember how many times he’s checked his phone, waiting for a text or call from Jihoon. A part of him almost wishes that Jihoon asks for a rain check; wishes for a text saying “I’m stuck in traffic” or “I had something I forgot about, I can’t make it”. 

 

Woojin knows that _this_ , this _brunch_ _date_ , is anything but a casual “hey let’s eat together”. It’s so much more. Woojin doesn’t understand things like language and colloquialisms, but he thinks that brunch must be code for something, like a fucked up metaphor for “we’re going to break up over tea and macaroons”.

 

He told Jihoon he had lost count of the days, but that’s not true, really he couldn’t lose count if he wanted to. The numbers were always at the front of his mind, nagging him, mocking him, reminding him of the expiration date on his time with Jihoon. 

 

Today is day twenty-eight. 

 

He and Jihoon have two days left. 

 

Woojin wants to run. 

 

He almost makes it out of the booth when Jihoon comes through the door. 

 

The first thing he notices about Jihoon is that he’s in  _ his _ hoodie, the one Woojin gave him that one night the rain poured down a little too fiercely and the thunder rumbled too loudly. Jihoon and Woojin aren’t too different in size, but today Jihoon looks so  _ small _ , swallowed up by Woojin’s hoodie as he plops down on the booth opposite of Woojin. Woojin’s hands twitch in his lap, itching to tug Jihoon in by the arm and hold him close to his chest, but he only grips his phone tighter. 

 

The second thing that Woojin notices is the pink that clouds Jihoon’s once clear eyes. Jihoon’s eyes are bloodshot and puffy, and Woojin’s heart drops. 

 

Daehwi was right, as he always is, and Woojin hates it. 

 

It’s not easy to ignore the cold truth, though, and Woojin can’t think about anything other than the glaring fact that he made Jihoon cry. 

 

Jihoon’s stayed silent since he walked in, and he hasn’t looked Woojin in the eye once, as if looking at or talking to Woojin would be too much for him to handle. 

 

Woojin’s hands clench into fists, nails digging crescent moons into the tender skin of his palms.  _ He _ did this to Jihoon. He reduced the loud, brave, strong-willed Park Jihoon into this, a shell of the man Woojin knows, a skeleton of Woojin’s best friend. 

 

Guilt weighs like a boulder on Woojin’s shoulders, and his heart aches for Jihoon. This—watching as Jihoon falls apart, watching as he bottles in his emotions, watching as he acts okay in front of Woojin, watching as he builds walls—, hurts more than anything Woojin has ever known, and for the first time in the last month, Woojin actually regrets ever going along with this.

 

Woojin wants to ask Jihoon a million questions. Woojin wants to ask Jihoon if he’s okay. Woojin wants to ask Jihoon if he still loves him. Woojin wants to ask Jihoon if  _ this _ is worth it. 

 

Questions and possible answers and contrasting scenarios play out in Woojin’s head, racing and twisting in front of his eyes at a hundred miles an hour. It couldn’t have been any longer than a minute, the moment of hesitation, that is, but it feels like he’s aged five years. He doesn’t know if he should ask Jihoon everything or nothing at all, and the if’s and but’s mock him with every careful turn he takes and every direction he thinks about taking. 

 

He doesn’t know what to do.

 

Words are hard to force out, and emotions are hard to understand, and actions are hard to make.

 

Was it always this difficult? 

 

_ Just do something, Woojin. _

 

Woojin takes a long, stalling breath, and he asks “Are you hungry?”

 

Jihoon finally looks at Woojin, and the younger deflates in relief when Jihoon smiles. It’s small, and it doesn’t come close to the blinding smiles Woojin is used to, but it’s something.  

 

“I’m starving.” Jihoon mumbles, hugging his stomach with an exaggerated pout. “Can we order waffles?” 

Woojin is happy to oblige.

 

It’s half past noon when they finally move to leave the waffle house, neither wanting to be the one to break the fragile comfortable silence they’ve forged over the meal, and the sun hangs high in the sky outside, shining brightly without a care in the world. 

 

Woojin envies the sun whose sole purpose is to shine, unbothered by complications of love or the woes of life. 

 

“Do you want to have dinner with me tomorrow?” Woojin asks, and his voice comes out shaky, barely above a whisper, but he knows Jihoon can hear him. Woojin knows he’s walking on thin ice, and that one wrong move would take him under cold water, but he doesn’t backtrack. “One last date?” 

 

Woojin watches Jihoon contemplate the question, fingers fiddling with the strings of his (Woojin’s) hoodie as he thinks and thinks again.

 

In some almost roundabout way, Woojin knows Jihoon will say yes, but the heavy weight in his stomach makes him second guess how well he knows Jihoon; how well he knows himself; how well he knows  _ them _ .

 

Woojin hates this—this doubt, this infinite loop of push and pull, this mile long stretch of gray—, but he’s scared of what comes after. 

 

It’s always scared him, the unknown, that is.

 

Time ticks on, and Woojin’s heart drops a little more with each count, and his breaths slow. 

 

Jihoon turns to face him, and he nods, eyes void of any light and smile weak. 

 

“Yeah, I’d like that.” 

 

**_[ LAST DATE!!! DAY 30 ]_ **

 

Jihoon is undoubtedly nervous. There’s a feeling in his stomach that makes him wring his hands in imaginary sweat, and the dread that faces him beyond his front door is larger than ever. He takes a quick look in the mirror; Woojin told him to dress nice, so he’s got on one of his suits. Good thing it fit; Jihoon picked at the shoulder pads and played a little with his buttons out of nervous habit.

 

He knows, they both know, that this is their last night as a couple. In twenty four hours, they’re going to go back as friends and pretend that none of this happened. Jihoon likes to think of it as a dream that he’s finally woken up from, but he wishes they could continue living in it.

 

“Now or never, right?” Jihoon says to himself. Taking a deep breath, he opens the door to walk outside to meet Woojin. Minhyun’s voice is echoing inside his head.

 

_ Let the last day be something you can fondly look back on. _

  
  
  


“Wow.”

 

Woojin can’t stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth. He looked up from his phone screen to see Jihoon,  _ Jihoon,  _ wearing a suit.

 

He almost died. 

 

He was still at a loss of words as Jihoon awkwardly coughed, shuffling his feet as he looked down at the ground. Woojin snapped out of his daze, scratching the back of his neck.

 

“You look amazing.”

 

Jihoon reacts to his words, his cheeks turning a flushed pink, and it was his turn to be embarrassed. “Thanks.”

 

Woojin leads him down Jihoon’s front lawn, where he makes the boy pause for a second. He comes back a few seconds later with a bouquet of red roses. Jihoon’s eyes widen, and Woojin takes the time to place them into his hands.

 

“Roses mean ‘I love you’…so I wanted to...express that.”

  
  


The dinner was nice enough. There were crystals that dangled from the ceiling, prissy waiters with bowties skirting around the restaurant, and a violin being softly played throughout. It was clear that Woojin put a lot of time into the place; as soon as Woojin pulled into the parking lot and opened the door for him, Jihoon turned back.

 

“Woojin, we didn’t have to go somewhere this fancy.”

 

“But I want to,” Woojin insisted, grabbing his hand gently, “Come on.”

 

They get seated into a small table in the corner of the room. There’s a small candle in between the two of them, and Woojin doesn’t even mind looking at the menu. The candle light reflects onto Jihoon softly, and the boy almost looks like he’s glowing. When Jihoon looks up to meet his eyes, he can see the small smile that plays on the boy’s lips and the soft yet sad sparkle that’s in his eyes.

 

Park Jihoon is Woojin’s light. But in order for the light to continue burning and to not burn out, he must leave it. 

  
  
  


The food is good. Probably. Possibly.  

 

It  _ is _ good, but it’s not like Woojin cares very much when his thoughts are on another plane of existence entirely. 

 

Across the table, Jihoon heaves a contented sigh. “Woojin, this is delicious. Here, take a bite,” and before Woojin can even process it, Jihoon is leaning forward with a fork in one hand, his other hand underneath to catch the chicken in case it falls. 

 

Woojin tastes the food, but all he can see is how Jihoon’s eyes twinkle in the candle light. 

 

“You really didn’t have to do this,” the other says, leaning back in his chair. “Woojin, seriously, how are we going to pay for this?”

 

Park Jihoon, always concerned, always caring and  _ taking care _ when he should just be enjoying himself. 

 

Woojin heaves a breathy laugh. “ _ We _ aren’t paying.  _ I _ am, though. And nothing a selfie or two to some guys on the internet can’t fix.”

 

It has the desired result, because Jihoon chokes on air and starts sputtering. “ _ Woojin _ ! Please don’t tell me—” He only stops to give him an exasperated look once Woojin starts laughing, unconsciously reaching out to entwine his own fingers with Jihoon’s. 

 

It’s a fond memory, really. Jihoon telling Woojin to come over, that they’ll make dinner together. Burgers, he remembers. It was barely the beginning, and if you’d told them they’d end up like  _ this _ , Woojin would have given a disbelieving laugh.

 

“Relax,” he says, caressing his thumb over the back of his hand, “I didn’t do anything. I just… saved up a little I guess.” 

 

As they finish dinner and get their plates taken away by one of those fancy waiters—not that they really notice, too absorbed in each other—Woojin thinks of Halloween, of Max, of the first time they’d kissed and the first time they held hands before that in the movie theatre. Of Jihoon trying to kiss Woojin on the cheek and them going  _ viral _ for it. Of even way, way before that, of Woojin buying his first camera and Jihoon helping him out with barely coherent iMovie edits. 

 

Life really works in unexpected ways. 

 

Jihoon looks at him for a minute as neither say anything, the flame of the candle being the only thing in between them. For a moment, Woojin thinks of a story he’s once read—of Icarus, of how Jihoon is not just his light in the dark, but the flame Woojin would gladly burn his wings on. Over and over again. 

 

“It’s been really nice,” the older murmurs before he reaches for Woojin with his other hand, placing it on top of their still entwined fingers. 

 

“Yeah,” Woojin says back, watching as Jihoon draws a heart on the back of his hand. “I’ll miss it.”

 

It has Jihoon laughing for a second. In disbelief, a bit of hopefulness and maybe denial. “You’re acting as if you’ll disappear any second.”

 

Woojin tenses for a moment—one second too long—before he tries to laugh as sincerely as he can. 

 

The other boy stops his movements and meets his eyes. If he notices some kind of strain in Woojin’s eyes ( _ spoiler: he does _ ), he doesn’t mention it. 

 

“You won’t get rid of me that easily, Park Woojin.”

 

“Good,” is what Woojin answers even though he knows the truth. Knows how it has to be in order for both of them to be happy. 

 

_ It’s not forever _ , he reminds himself.  _ Things will be okay, won’t they? _

 

Day thirty. 

 

It’s been beautiful. 

 

But it’s the end.

 

**_[ TRAIN STATION ]_ **

 

Woojin takes one look back at the station gates; at the families grouped together at the doors, at the couples holding hands as they walk through the station, parents holding onto their child’s hand so they don’t wander off alone. Strangers that Woojin don’t know; strangers that don’t know Woojin, but know exactly what he’s contemplating—to stay or to go. 

 

Arms tight around each other and smiles all around; tears of joy and tears of sadness all the same; hellos and farewells; beginnings and endings don’t look too different in Woojin’s eyes—nothing looks too different in Woojin’s tear filled eyes.

 

The only difference is that this is a one-sided goodbye. 

 

It’s not a goodbye at all, really, he’ll be back, but he thinks that maybe it hurts more like this—to know that something is wrong, to know that this isn’t the way to fix it, to know that maybe there isn’t a way to fix it, to know that  _ he doesn’t know _ a thing, to know it all, and yet to know nothing at all. 

 

Yesterday is yesterday, oday is today, and tomorrow is tomorrow, simultaneously tangents and parallels, clashing and winding, moving away from each other without looking back. 

 

Jihoon and Woojin are the same.  

 

Woojin promised Jihoon he would always stay by his side, but it looks like that’s the one promise that Woojin will have to break. 

 

Ticket in hand, Woojin stares down at the small card and wonders how one single slip of paper could mean so much; how something as light as a feather could weigh so heavily in his hand; how this one ticket could take him one place and burn the bridge behind him completely. 

 

So this is it, huh? 

 

_ You have to do this, Park Woojin. _

 

“It’s simpler this way.” Woojin mumbles to himself as he takes a tighter hold of his suitcase and turns. He closes his eyes for a single grounding moment, and forces his breathing into a slow rise and fall. “You have to do this.” 

 

He doesn’t believe his own words. 

 

If his eyes continue to sting, the threat of stray tears staying throughout his walk to the platform, Woojin blames the blinding lights of the train station. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Woojin pocketed his phone with a sigh and finally let his feet drag him to the train. It’s all a blur; he took a deep breath and finally looked ahead. The train had finally arrived, and the voice on the intercom was calling for all passengers to board. 

 

“Train to Busan leaving in two minutes,” the voice announced, “All passengers, please make your way. Doors are closing in two minutes.”

 

He handed his ticket to the conductor who was standing outside of the entrance. Taking one good look at Woojin, it was as if he’s seen people like him before; those who are lost, who are trying to run away, or those who are simply escaping reality. 

 

“You do know it’s not too late to turn back, right?” He asked Woojin gently, motioning at his suitcase, “You can save this train ride for when you do want to go somewhere. Don’t run away.”

 

Woojin was surprised as he looked up to meet the man’s face, full of concern and understanding. Woojin merely smiled and shook his head, and handed his ticket to him. 

 

“I have to do this.”

 

The conductor nodded and let him onto the train, and Woojin walked through the aisle. It was mostly packed, and he squinted to read the small font of his assigned row. Taking the window seat, he shoved his suitcase on top and sighed. He jammed his earbuds in, blaring a playlist he’d hastily thrown together, and took a deep breath. Why did it have to sound so fucking sad?

 

He had to do this. Woojin admits that he’s being extremely selfish for only thinking about himself, and the guilt keeps filling his stomach until it drops. Going through his phone, he clicks the link to the videos that Jihoon sends him. At first, Woojin cracks a smile for the first time that night.

 

It brings back waves of memories that Woojin didn’t need to rewatch; he etched it into his mind already. But seeing it again stirred something inside of him. 

 

He doesn’t know if he’ll ever love someone the way he loved Jihoon; he could walk the Earth and there would still be nobody that could compare to him. He’s admittedly a fool for love, but if there’s one thing he knows, it’s that Park Jihoon is irreplaceable. 

  
  


Park Jihoon wakes up to 40 missed phone calls and more than 500 notifications on Twitter. He’s still dead asleep (dreaming of Woojin, of course) as he groans to pick up a call from Daehwi. 

 

“Hello?”

 

“Park Jihoon. It’s literally eleven in the morning.  _ Where  _ have you been?”

 

He rubs his eyes and is still half-asleep listening to Daehwi.

 

“Mm, Woojin and I finished our date somewhat late and I couldn’t sleep, so yeah. Why?”

 

“Go to your Twitter feed. And go look on your channel.”

 

Jihoon mumbles an “okay” as he unlocks his phone. Blinking at the notifications, he’s seeing comments that he knows that he didn’t cause. He suddenly was now awake.

 

The whole Twitter feed was blowing up in almost a panic-like state, and  _ what  _ was this thing about them hitting 30 million views? Jihoon knows they’ve never even gotten a fraction of that. 

 

“Uh..”

 

“Go to your channel. Watch it.” Daehwi said, before hanging up. Jihoon, almost nervous, goes to his account, and is more than surprised to see a brand new video. 

 

He knew that Woojin had asked for videos, but they were of them together. It was a compilation Jihoon made of them throughout the whole month to look back on —

 

Oh. So that’s why Woojin asked for it. 

 

Now knowing these facts, Jihoon was indefinitely a little scared to watch, but decided to anyways. 

 

By the first click, he saw that Woojin had added a quick blooper to one of their last live streaming sessions together.

 

“Hmm…Nobody’s here yet?” He hears Woojin’s voice say.

 

And then the  _ song  _ came on. Jihoon automatically recognizes it; on the ride back from their weekend trip, Jihoon had been softly singing it under his breath. And he had no idea that Woojin was secretly listening. 

 

As the videos and clips kept playing, Jihoon found himself wearing a half-bitter smile. From their movie dates to their videos together, it pained him to see the way they  _ used  _ to be. By the end of the video, he was practically in tears. 

 

Until he saw the caption. Woojin tended to leave longer captions between the two of them, but this time, he only wrote a single sentence; “for all the things I couldn’t say to you.”

 

It made Jihoon’s chest tighten and his heart clench, his mind now racing. He knows what Woojin is trying to say; that even though they’ve ended this challenge, he still loves him entirely. That even though this challenge is over, Woojin doesn’t want it to be. He wants this. He wants a  _ forever.  _

 

Jihoon quickly jumped out of bed, bumping into things in the process that still made him think of Woojin. His hoodie that smelled of his cologne still on the floor. The stuffed bear Woojin won him at the carnival. A series of polaroids that Jihoon hung up of the two of them. 

 

Woojin was a part of Jihoon that he wasn’t willing to give up so easily, and he knew what he had to do this time. 

 

Hopping into his car and turning the engine on, he started driving to Woojin’s house. 

 

He’s going to finally confess to Woojin. No second-guessing, no vague or mysterious words; he’s going to tell him it in the raw way that he should have all those weeks ago.

  
  
  


The ride to Woojin’s house couldn’t have felt slower. Jihoon feels like it takes him centuries to get to the other boy’s apartment. His heart beating in his throat, his head pounding as he scanned the roads ahead of him. The usual ten minute drive seemed like ten hours long, and he was still stuck on what exactly he was going to say. 

 

You see, Jihoon is pretty good when it comes to talking, but for some reason, Woojin makes him tongue-tied. There’s too many thoughts he’s thinking and words that Jihoon wants to say, and he doesn’t think that just words could express them. And after all of the things they’ve been through, Jihoon doesn’t even know where to start. 

 

Where were they supposed to go after this? Are they going to  _ really  _ give themselves a shot? Jihoon knows that a relationship isn’t something that comes lightly; he was more than happy to accept Woojin as himself; as his best friend, and most importantly, the love of his life.

 

He finally pulled into Woojin’s driveway, taking deep breaths. Woojin is the only person that makes him so nervous just to even  _ speak;  _ words can only do so much to explain what’s going on in his head right now. He just hopes that Woojin will be able to understand.

 

Getting out and closing his car door, he’s surprised to not hear Max’s familiar barking from outside. 

 

“Max?” he calls, waiting for the puppy to respond, “Buddy, are you home?”

 

There’s no answer. Jihoon brushes off the feelings of doubt that start to grow in his stomach, and goes to ring Woojin’s doorbell. He waits a second, and then a minute, and then tries to ring again. There’s still no answer.

 

“Maybe he’s out getting groceries or something,” Jihoon mumbles, frowning and looking at the time on his phone. It’s 3:30 P.M. He knows that Woojin is superstitious and only buys groceries at 5:00 P.M every Saturday; so at this point he’s just coming up with excuses. Looking up, he’s still worried when there’s no answer to the door. 

 

He calls Daehwi, who picks up after a few rings.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Hey, Hwi.”

 

“Oh, J-Jihoon! What’s up?”

 

He doesn’t notice the slight panic in Daehwi’s voice.

 

“Um, nothing really. Do you know where Woojin is?”

  
  
  


“Park Woojin, you will be the fucking death of me.” Jihoon curses under his breath as he calls Woojin for the nth time, call going straight to voicemail, and he presses his palms to his eyes, willing the tears to stay at bay. “What was going through your head, you fool?”

 

Jihoon sighs after texting Seongwu, the older telling him that he and Minhyun have Max, and he moves to find his car keys. He had misplaced them after storming home, flinging them across the room somewhere in his rage, and now he can’t find them. Jihoon’s looked all over, but it’s as if they vanished into thin air. 

 

What hasn’t though, what he runs into in each way he looks, what is still in Jihoon’s home, in every single nook and cranny, is a reminder of Park Woojin. 

 

In every direction, Jihoon finds something that belongs to Woojin—the soft blanket Woojin got him four years ago is draped over the back of Jihoon’s couch, Woojin’s stupid box of Legos is tucked away under Jihoon’s coffee table, Woojin’s toothbrush is in his bathroom, Woojin’s favorite movies lay in a pile under Jihoon’s TV. 

 

Without Jihoon knowing, Woojin had managed to wiggle his way into Jihoon’s home, and far or near, traces of Woojin make up Jihoon’s home—maybe reminders of Woojin is what makes it home. 

 

Jihoon stands in the middle of his home, taking in the moment, eyes wandering between his own belongings and Woojin’s, calculating the ratio in his head ( _ half are yours, and half are his, _ says the voice in his head), and he drops to his knees, face in his hands, and he cries. 

  
  


It’s half an hour later when Jihoon calms down, eyes stinging as he stares at the ceiling, tears long gone, but at the same time just on the edge of falling again. 

 

Jihoon almost tips over, losing his balance when he stands, but he catches himself on his kitchen counter. Hands splayed on the cold marble, Jihoon’s fingers touch something hard, and he moves the towel, curious of what it was that he touched, and his eyes widen. 

 

It’s his second set of keys, and hooked onto it is an orange key, a Pokemon character printed onto it—Woojin always liked the cute custom made keys. 

 

Jihoon had the spare key to Woojin’s home. 

With a burst of energy, Jihoon snatches the keys and runs out of his home, off to pick up Max and look through Woojin’s house for that damned address—for  _ something _ . 

  
  


Jihoon holds Max in one hand and clutches the spare key in his other, standing in front of Woojin’s door, shoes cemented to the ground. Max barks in his arms after 5 minutes of Jihoon just staring at the numbers nailed into the old wood of Woojin’s door, and Jihoon sighs. 

 

“You miss home, don’t you, Max?” Jihoon asks with a small smile, scratching the dog behind his ears and laughing when the dog leans into his touch. “You must miss Woojin, too. Like me.”

 

Jihoon’s shoulders slump when the dog whimpers, and he sighs, finally unlocking the door and swinging Woojin’s door open. 

 

Max hops down from his arms and runs into the familiar space, and Jihoon watches him go with a bitter smile, following after a moment of contemplation. 

 

What Jihoon spots first is a stack of cards that sit on Woojin’s dinner table, some balled up, some tossed to the side, some wrinkled at the edges. 

 

Jihoon takes a breath and moves to them, drawn to the idea that they were for him; that Woojin was writing them for him. 

 

He picks one up and closes his eyes for a second, not yet looking into it, and Jihoon prays that he’s right, that they are for him, but at the same time, he prays that he’s wrong, that Woojin was just writing Christmas cards in advance. 

 

Jihoon reads the cards, heart racing before it stops. 

 

_ Hi Jihoonie, it’s me.  _

 

And that’s it. A long line of pen drags down the card, but nothing else is written. 

 

Jihoon snorts and picks up another one, more urgent, more panicked. 

 

_ To my love, Jihoon,  _

 

_ This is not a goodbye. I don’t want it to be, so I’m not going to say it. Oh fuck, I said it? _

 

Although he laughs, Jihoon’s eyes sting with tears again, heart clenching at the sight of Woojin’s familiar handwriting, reading the words Woojin wanted to write for him, but never sent. Something about the fact that Woojin wanted to write him a note, and the image of Woojin thinking about what to say, pen in hand, a dozen cards in front of him, only to come up with nothing, makes Jihoon want to break down and cry. 

 

“You’re an idiot, Park Woojin.” 

 

Jihoon picks up another one, reading it with a bitter smile on his lips.

 

_ Dear Jihoon,  _

 

_ Thank you for loving me, and thank you for allowing me to love you.  _

 

Jihoon’s heart drops, and he breathes out a shaky sigh. Of course Woojin would say something like this, something so innocent and sweet, something that breaks Jihoon’s heart and tapes it back together. 

 

“Thank  _ you _ for loving me.”

 

He sits down in Woojin’s chair and imagines Woojin in this position; imagines his scent, his little pout, his annoyed groans each time he messed up or wrote something he didn’t like. If Jihoon closes his eyes, he can just almost fool himself into thinking that Woojin is right here, arms around him, breath fanning onto his nape. 

 

Jihoon reads another one, this one wrinkled and balled up, the subject of Woojin’s annoyance.

 

He traces Woojin’s words, and he breathes out a broken sigh.

 

_ To Jihoon:  _

 

_ I’m sorry for being a fuck up. I’m sorry I’m doing this to you. I’m so sorry.  _

  
  


Woojin knew that it was going to hurt; but he never thought it would hurt this badly.

 

He’s currently curled up under all his blankets at 2:00 PM, and is a puddle of tears as he listens to Jihoon’s playlist. And, to be frank, he has no idea what to think. 

 

Since he came to Busan, Woojin has felt like he’s empty. It’s a feeling that’s been growing inside of him for a long time now, and one that he’s done everything to try and forget about it. But listening to Jihoon’s playlist makes it intensify; and he’s barely afloat against all the waves of his emotions. 

 

He admits that he hasn’t really been himself recently; he hasn’t slept much, he hasn’t even eaten really, and he stares at his navy blue ceiling for a unhealthy amount of time. The only time he’s gone out was to play soccer with Youngmin, but besides then, he was a total wreck.

 

Scrolling through the songs, he’s almost chuckling at how direct Jihoon was. It was if he was picking songs over their titles instead of their actual lyrics, but hey, he definitely got the message.

 

But it’s not like Woojin can go back now, after all he caused. He doesn’t even know if he could face Jihoon. And Woojin admits that yes—he’s being a total coward—but it’s the only thing he knows how to do best. 

 

He’s never felt so guilty, so lonely, and most importantly, so full of regret. It’s like all the seams from his life started to rip apart, and he’s left with the remaining shreds.

 

Tears just keep coming but this time, Woojin doesn’t stop them from falling. He blankly just lies on his bed, listening to the songs that Jihoon had put together, thinking of him. The message was so, so  _ clear _ , but Woojin didn’t understand it until now.

 

He hears a soft knock on the door outside, and Yerim peeks her head in. She looks genuinely concerned, coming over to give him a hug. 

 

“It just hurts, Yerim,” Woojin whispers, his face now enveloped into his palms, “It just hurts so  _ bad.  _ What the fuck was I thinking?”

 

Yerim doesn’t say anything, and Woojin finally cries. They aren’t the sad sniffles that he’s been holding in all this time; but they’re heartbroken and sobbing, Woojin breaking down under all of his emotions. He can’t even comprehend some of the broken sounds that come out of his mouth, but doesn’t even care. 

 

Because without Jihoon, Woojin is only half of himself. And he doesn’t know  _ when  _ or  _ if  _ he will ever find someone like Jihoon who could complete him.

 

Woojin has never tried to jump out of a window. He’s watched countless movies where the heroine shimmies down with a rope of tied bed sheets; but he realizes that first, he is terrified of heights, and secondly, he would easily break a leg.

 

He’s bought his plane ticket to Siberia. He’s packed a small luggage to take with him. He throws it out the window first, waiting for the  _ thud  _ down below. After hearing it, he stuck one foot out the window.

 

This was  _ such  _ a terrible idea, and he knows it.

 

But, it all seems better than having to talk to the person downstairs. So he obviously takes the risk. Peeking out his window, and looking one last time back, he jumps. He squeezes his eyes all the way shut as he quickly tumbles to the ground, praying that he gets lucky and falls into a bush.

 

Which, he does. He finds that he’s congratulating himself for  _ not  _ dying, until he realizes who’s there with him.  

 

It’s Jihoon. And Jihoon looks at him warily and sighs, shaking his head as he helps pull Woojin out of the bush, picking the leaves out of his hair.

 

“Did you really want to avoid seeing me that much?” he asks quietly, the hurt evident in his voice. His question makes Woojin’s throat tighten up; he doesn’t even know how to answer him.

 

Woojin takes a good look at the boy standing in front of him. It’s clear that he rushed to Busan after finding out where he was (all thanks to Daehwi), and it looked like he didn’t get any sleep. With his hair all tangled, his cheeks flushed in the cold Busan air, and those  _ eyes _ , Woojin stays in his place.

 

“Do you know how much shit I felt when you left?” Jihoon asked again quietly, not expecting an answer. He looked directly at Woojin in the eye, waiting to see any signs of movement, “Do you?”

 

It’s only then that Woojin can see how  _ broken  _ Jihoon is. It’s different than when they went to brunch together. Jihoon’s eyes are glassed over, his soul is worn out, and most evidently, his heart is. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Woojin whispers, still terrified to move closer to the boy, “I’m so, so, sorry.”

 

Jihoon laughs bitterly. 

 

“Sorry?” he repeats, “That’s all you can say?  _ Sorry?  _ If only you knew how it felt when I went to your fucking house to finally say, ‘Hey Woojin, I’m literally in  _ love  _ with you and I  _ have  _ been in love with you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You are the only person who gets me so fucking unraveled that I don’t know where to even start—“

 

And Park Woojin is undeniably a coward, but somehow, he finds himself cutting Jihoon’s confession with his lips. He pulls Jihoon in, the two of them instantly colliding. It’s a brute yet honest force that suddenly seems to speak for Woojin.

 

_ I’m sorry. I was scared of change. I don’t know why I did it. I am so, so sorry for hurting you. I promise to never leave you again. I love you too. _

 

Jihoon surprisingly doesn’t shove him away, and Woojin takes that time to brush away the stray tears that he finds in Jihoon’s eyes. The two of them continue to clash, Jihoon’s hands are now gripping Woojin tightly, Woojin’s hands become knotted messes in his hair. They finally separate, Woojin bringing Jihoon’s head to his, their foreheads pressing. Jihoon still has tears running down his angelic face, and Woojin does his best to wipe them away under the pouring rain. They’re both soaked, but they continue to stand outside.

 

“Love fucks my mind up, Park Jihoon,” he whispers, “And I’m a total idiot when it comes to my feelings. Are you still willing to take me as someone like that?”

 

“You idiot. I will love every single thing about you; whether it be your flaws or not. We’re in this together, aren’t we?”

 

And they kiss again. They’ve kissed many times before, but this time, there’s a spark there. It’s electrifying, coursing through Woojin’s body, but it’s small, like a candle that had just been lighted. 

 

And Woojin wouldn’t want it any other way. 

 

“I love you,” Jihoon whispers, his voice about to break again, “I just love you so goddamn  _ much.” _

 

“You are all I want in this life, and the next one, Jihoon,” Woojin replies, “You are fucking irreplaceable.”

  
  


**_[ ENDING: MANDY ]_ **

  
  


It’s half an hour later, after more kisses and minutes of tight hugs that told of longing, pain, and love, that the two boys finally learn to ( _ try to _ ) communicate—actions don’t always mean more than words, and with them, they can’t go on longer without  _ talking _ to each other; clearing the air and working through misunderstandings, unloading feelings, both blacks and whites and the grays that fall along the long line that string together the two extremes, asking questions that have weighed down on their shoulders for the past month, the what-are-we’s and the what-do-we-do-now’s.

 

Jihoon is cross legged on one side of the couch, bowl of soup in his lap, and Woojin is on the other, arms circled around a pillow. They are  _ finally _ in the same room after almost four days, barely a meter apart, but Woojin has never felt a distance this wide separating them; a tension this thick; a sharper pain in the left side of his chest. 

 

Woojin knows Yerim is probably listening in on he and Jihoon’s conversation (or lack of) from around the corner, phone in hand and preparing to text it all to Daehwi word for word, but he can’t find it in himself to scold her—his little sister just wants the best for him, after all, and he knows she thinks  _ Jihoon _ is what’s best for him (he thinks the same). 

 

“Jihoon.” 

 

The name falls from Woojin’s lips without him knowing, as if his body was tired of the heavy silence and acted on its own will, the word too familiar on his tongue, the mumble of Jihoon’s name like a natural instinct, and Woojin probably wouldn’t have noticed he said anything at all if not for the way Jihoon immediately looks up at him, stare questioning and lips twisted into a pout.

 

Jihoon cocks his head to the side, eyes trained on his face, and Woojin takes it as a sign to go on.

 

Woojin doesn’t know how to start the conversation— _ the _ conversation—, and he’s just as lost as he was days ago, but this time he will listen to his heart, and ignore the thoughts floating in the back of his mind—what he cares about now is Park Jihoon, and nothing more. 

 

“I think I have loved you for a really,  _ really _ long time, and I think I loved you a lot, but I think I love you more now.” is the first thing that comes out of Woojin’s mouth, and it’s embarrassing to admit, and more embarrassing when he hears the rapid fire tapping of Yerim’s fingers on her phone, but he doesn’t take it back. He means it from the bottom of his heart. 

 

“At first, maybe it was just as a friend, but I think that as time passed, something changed.” Woojin continues on, staring Jihoon dead in the eye as he mumbles the words just loud enough for Jihoon to hear. If Yerim moves closer to hear, Woojin ignores it. “I don’t think it was the challenge that caused  _ this _ , but it’s okay if it was.”

 

Woojin takes a long breath, one that both grounds him and makes him feel like his head is in the clouds, and he moves closer to Jihoon, making sure to stop just shy of touching him. “This month made me realize a lot of things, and those things scared the shit out of me. It scared me a lot to know that maybe all along, I didn’t only love you as a friend.” Woojin hugs his pillow closer to his body, fingers curling into the soft plush, and he wets his lips, mouth gone dry. “You know how I am when I’m not used to something, right?” 

 

He laughs when Jihoon nods, and he goes on. “I know it’s you, and I know you wouldn’t hurt me, God I know, but I was scared of my own emotions, and it’s hard, you know? Things that used to be so easy became hard.  _ Talking to you _ became hard. That’s why it got to this point.”  _ Why I hopped on a train to run from this, from _ you _ , and ghosted you for days.  _

 

“I just.” Woojin stops, mouth falling open and closed as he thinks about how to say what’s on his mind. “It’s my first time loving someone the way I love you,” he mumbles, bashful and cringing at his own words, his ears turning firetruck red, “You were a lot of firsts when it came to love for me.” 

 

“I didn’t really know what love was, and I didn’t  _ understand _ all the things that came with it.” Woojin smiles, a small upturning of his lips. “I didn’t understand why my heart clenched when I woke up with you in my arms. I didn’t understand why I always wanted to fucking kiss you. I didn’t understand why it was  _ you _ , of all people, and I think that’s why I freaked out and acted like such a coward.”

 

Jihoon sighs, placing the bowl in his lap onto Woojin’s coffee table and inching closer to the younger, knees bumping against Woojin’s.

 

“It’s my fault too.” Jihoon admits, threading a hand through Woojin’s hair, touch gentle and soothing. The older’s shoulders slump and he breathes out another sigh. “Did you know I was trying to eavesdrop behind your bedroom door when you talked to Daehwi about the secret admirer?”

 

Woojin blinks. “What?”

 

“Yeah,” Jihoon laughs, unable to look Woojin in the eye anymore. “Left me paranoid for days. Minhyun hyung had to scream and knock some sense into me.”

 

“I’ve never let someone into my life so quickly,” Jihoon continues, taking the chance to lace their fingers together when Woojin’s hold on his pillow slackens. “And I couldn’t relate to all those romance movies that you love until I got to know you—not as Park Jihoon, my best friend, but as Park Jihoon, my boyfriend.”

 

Woojin grins at that, and Jihoon ducks his head in embarrassment, only looking up at the younger when Woojin whines. Jihoon’s voice drops to a mumble, but Woojin hears him loud and clear. “You’re just something that decided to walk into my life and go against every single thing I stood for, and you knocked down my walls and made me question everything that I thought I had known.”

 

Woojin can hear Yerim childlike squeals from outside the door, light footsteps running up the staircase, and a faint, “Just  _ wait _ until Daehwi oppa hears about this!”, but he chooses to ignore it. 

 

“Love really gets the best of us, doesn’t it?” Woojin asks. A wave of courage flows through him, and he breathes it in, taking Jihoon’s other hand into his own and pressing a soft kiss onto the back of both of Jihoon’s hands, looking the older in the eye as he does so.

 

“Yeah, it does.” is Jihoon’s answer, smile soft and warm.

 

Woojin waits for the doubt to come flooding, for the negative thoughts to take over his mind, for his conscience to scream at him and shout that Jihoon is too good for him, but none of that happens. 

 

He waits for the urge to run, for his hands to shake, for his throat to close up, but his body stays still, heart beating in his chest, breaths slow.

 

Woojin thought he would regret this—this challenge, this month, this  _ talk _ .

 

But he doesn’t. 

 

He loves Jihoon, and Jihoon loves him. 

 

It’s a silent conversation that hangs above the both of them, but they understand each other, and the heavy feeling that once choked Woojin’s heart fades, hold loosening, and the fire flickers again in Jihoon’s eyes, shining red and orange in the same dark pool that Woojin sees himself in.

 

Love is a road that goes both ways, and Woojin and Jihoon walk hand in hand down it. 

  
  


**_[ ENDING: CARO ]_ **

  
  


It’s way past midnight. Yerim and Woojin’s parents had headed to sleep not too long ago, leaving the two boys together on the couch in a comfortable silence. Lost in his own thoughts, Jihoon watches as he and Woojin’s story plays before his eyes—how things had fallen into place one by one, a domino effect, Jihoon’s walls knocked down with a single tap that came in the form of Park Woojin.

 

From the start (maybe  _ this _ had started long before the “start”; maybe it had started when they graduated from middle school, or maybe when Jihoon had his first bad break up, or maybe when they started a channel together) with Woojin being someone who he insisted was “just a friend”; to the understanding that maybe Woojin was becoming a little more than that, falling in the hundreds of grays that bridge black and white, not  _ only _ a friend, but not a  _ lover _ ; and finally to the day that Woojin became someone that Jihoon couldn’t see himself without. 

 

It’s almost ironic how Fate turned their hearts and spun them 180 degrees. Jihoon is still deep in thought as he feels Woojin suddenly start shifting before turning again to face him. 

 

“Hey, I know we just made up and everything,” Woojin whispers, nudging him, “but, are you up for an adventure?”

 

That’s how Jihoon found himself walking with Woojin in the late hours of the night on the streets of Busan. Woojin had gently wrapped one of his jackets around Jihoon (to which, he muttered an embarrassed, ‘I just don’t want you to be cold’), and they headed out. The street lights blinked back at the two boys, Woojin tugging Jihoon alongside him hand-in-hand—Jihoon had subconsciously taken his hand into his, more by habit than anything, and the two continued trudging in silence. Woojin turned his head here and there to make sure Jihoon isn’t too cold, and that he’s sure he still knows the way to wherever they’re going.

 

“Woojin, are you sure we aren’t lost?”

 

“No, no, I know where we’re going.”

 

Jihoon, still wary of Woojin’s direction skills, let the boy continue to lead them. They’ve walked far past Woojin’s little house now; they were in the outskirts of the big port city. The little city lights seemed so far away as he and Woojin approached a hill. It’s a deep and dark emerald green, with the rain droplets from hours before sparkling back, and the cicadas quietly chirping a background melody. 

 

“Can you climb?” Woojin gently asked, concerned as he turned around, “I don’t mind giving you a piggyback, or do you just want to turn back? I really don’t mind, I don’t want to see you hurt, I don’t know what I’ll-”

 

Jihoon cut off Woojin’s panicked rapid-fire questions with a firm squeeze of his hand and rolled his eyes.

 

“I’ll be fine, Woojin.”

 

They head up the hill, which wasn’t even as big as Woojin made it out to be, but Woojin refuses to let go of his hand the whole time, pulling Jihoon up next to him. They’re sitting on the grass together, sprawled and staring at the sky. 

 

After catching their breath for a few moments, Jihoon finally asks where they are. 

 

Woojin looks down at the ground, as if he’s trying to come up with the reason why they suddenly left his house to go off on a hike to a random hill outside of town in the middle of the night. 

 

“When I was younger, this was my secret place.” Woojin starts, this little nostalgic light in his eyes. “My parents used to argue a lot before Yerim was born, and I would run here whenever I got scared. I actually found it when I was claiming that I was running away from home,” he laughed, and Jihoon laughs too, imagining a six year old Woojin packing up and storming out of his home. 

 

“I started coming back whenever something bad happened at school, or when I was frustrated, or when nothing felt like it was going the way I wanted it to. I’d just look out at the city, and I would tell myself that  _ somewhere,  _ in this city, or in Seoul, or a million miles away, there’s someone that I was destined to be with.”

 

“I promised myself to bring someone that I love here. I wanted them to share this place with me; away from all the extra noise and the things that don’t really matter. I was planning on showing you this hill eventually. My parents showed me how ugly love could be, and it scared the hell out of me. But, ever since I’ve been with you, I feel like being in love is one of the most magical feelings in the world.”

 

Jihoon’s at lost at Woojin’s sudden confession. He’s still tongue tied as Woojin asks him something so quietly that he almost doesn’t catch it, the words almost lost in the whistle of the wind.

 

“Park Jihoon, I know that we’ve had so many ups and downs, but I promise you, if you just gave me the chance, I will do everything to make you the happiest person in the world.”

 

They’re now so close that Jihoon can feel Woojin’s breath fanning onto his lips. Somehow, Jihoon realizes that they’re now in a position that he knows all too well; Woojin’s arm supporting his back from falling, Jihoon leaning in to him, their noses and foreheads touching as thick silence is the only thing that separates them.

 

Jihoon decides to break it.

 

“I’ll take you up on that offer.”

 

He pulls Woojin in again, and for the nth time, they kiss, lips joined and hearts beating as one. 

 

And just like all the other times, there’s a spark there, and like the other times, there’s butterflies that are brewing a whirlwind in his stomach, but if there’s a single moment that Jihoon wants to engrave in his mind, it’s this one. As soon as they connect, Jihoon feels like a deadweight is lifted from his heart, and he feels free. He can feel Woojin’s grin as the two of them continue to refuse to split, and he knows that Woojin feels the same way.

 

Through all the tangles and knots in the red string of fate that binds their hearts, they both know that they were  _ meant  _ to be together. They fit too perfectly. It was too “meant-to-be” to just claim that it was a coincidence that Woojin walked into his life. 

 

Breathless, they finally cease. They fall down onto the grass, backs flat and shoulders touching, and Jihoon suddenly bursts into laughter. Woojin looks at him curiously, as if waiting for an explanation.

 

“I still can’t believe you tried to cuddle with your sister’s rooster to replace me.”

 

“I just confessed my heart to you.” Woojin rolls his eyes, whiny as he complains, but the smile on his lips is radiant. “Please shut up.”

 

The two of them crack up, Woojin’s arm now around Jihoon. And Jihoon knows that they’ll continue to have their differences, but Woojin will always be the person that he’ll come running back to. 

  
  


**_[ ENDING: JAI ]_ **

  
  


They spend the next day lazing around at Woojin’s house. Talking, watching some movies, playing games Woojin still had from before he’d moved to Seoul. It almost feels like nothing has changed— except, everything has. Everything has changed but they are still Park Jihoon and Park Woojin, best friends who make YouTube videos and struggle their way through college with their friends together. Except now, they’ve become boyfriends, too, and that is another bonus entirely.    
  
Jihoon officially meets Woojin’s parents, and his mother forces them to stay for dinner, at least. Woojin thinks Yerim might actually like Jihoon more than she likes him now. Brat.    
  
When night falls, the idle winter sun disappearing and making room for a full moon and the stars, Woojin packs his bag again. The last train back to Seoul is a bit of a tight fit, but Woojin decides he’d rather go back up tonight. Jihoon hadn’t packed anything when he rushed across the country for his dumbass boyfriend, really, so when he meets him downstairs in the living room to take their leave, Woojin has to gulp. “That’s my hoodie.”   
  
“Yeah. You like it?”    
  
Woojin sighs, knowing he can’t hide the increasing red at the top of his ears, the heat on his cheeks. “I love it,” he breathes, then hesitates before adding, “I love you.”    
  
He hears Jihoon’s laugh more than he sees it—eyes set on looking anywhere but him. He doesn’t expect it when Jihoon strides over in two simple steps and kisses him, quick and gentle and enough to send Woojin’s heart into overdrive.    
  
“You ready to go back?” Jihoon says, reaching out to hold Woojin’s hand, tangling their fingers together loosely.    
  
“Yeah,” he looks around the house, a little dazed and breathless. The typical aftermath of the miracle that is none other than Park Jihoon. Yerim and his parents have already gone to bed. They’d said their goodbyes earlier—and although he knows they would have loved for Woojin to stay for another few days, they know home is somewhere else now.  _ Someone _ else now. It’s quiet except for the ticking of the clock—a reminder of the time they’d spent together, lost together, and will be together. Woojin meets Jihoon’s gaze, reflected by nothing but the light of the kitchen behind him. He squeezes his hand. “Yeah. Let’s go home.”   
  
  


They get on the KTX with their hands clasped tightly together. Nervous, almost. As if they’re going on an adventure, as if they’re going into the unknown. Afraid that if he lets go, it’ll all have been a dream and Jihoon will disappear like smoke. 

 

As the train departs, Woojin looks outside. It’s too dark to see anything, truly, so he ends up studying Jihoon through the reflection of the window. He still looks a bit worn out. Tired. But there is light in his eyes again, and a tiny smile playing on his lips when he notices Woojin’s indirect stare. 

 

He’s going to make sure that the light in Jihoon’s gaze never goes out again. That it never diminishes, never fades. He’s going to love Jihoon with everything he has, love him like he should have done the day he texted him,  _ I’d rather just date you, then. _

 

They will have to learn, have to adjust and get used to this. It’s a challenge, still. It’s scary, and maybe  _ this _ —this entire train ride back to Seoul—symbolises that. New beginnings, jumping into the deep end not knowing whether it will be sinking or swimming. 

 

“You’re thinking too much again,” Jihoon quietly remarks. He frowns a little. “Penny for your thoughts?” 

 

Woojin huffs, turning back to his boyfriend directly. “A penny? No. A kiss, maybe, yeah.” 

 

The other rolls his eyes, but leans over to peck his lips regardless. Woojin smiles and steals another kiss. “I was just thinking about, you know,  _ us. _ This entire mess. New beginnings.”

 

“Not much has to change, though?” Jihoon responds, but his tone is telling Woojin that he  _ understands.  _ “We’ll still be best friends. And I will still pester you and you will still laugh at me for stupid shit. And we will still play games and make videos and take care of Max together. Except now I can kiss you and you will know that I mean it, that I mean  _ this _ . And I will know the same when you kiss me back, too. Don’t be scared anymore, Wooj.” 

 

“I’m not,” Woojin says to that, and realises he means it. “I won’t be.” 

 

“Really really?” Jihoon asks, leaning in closer again, as if the small space between them is still too much. 

 

“Really really,” Woojin answers, and then closes the gap between them. 

 

They kiss again, and again, and again, in a way that is probably considered indecent at any occasion. But the train is empty except for them, so who cares? 

 

“Hey,” Woojin says, pulling away after an eternity but still too soon. “Let’s go on a date tomorrow. A real one. Stay over, let’s sleep in, and let’s go out after we make breakfast. We can pick up Max again at Minhyun and Seongwu’s later, too.”

 

“A date?” Jihoon hums, fingers fiddling with the hair on the back of his neck. “Sure. Where?” 

 

Woojin snorts at the place he has in mind. “You’ll see.” 

  
  


**_[ END ]_ **

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> YUH HERE WE ARE AT THE END!!! thank you for reading that??? you're a rockstar!!! writing this with jai and caro has been an absolute dream and we are so proud of to say that this is the end of the journey!!! wink wonk though i might post some extras haha who knows am i right!!! don't forget to like and subscribe to our channel if you liked this video ;)


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